Parallels and Divergences
by Hermia S
Summary: Shepard and James Vega are soldiers. They're survivors, having lived to see the other side of the worst a tour of duty could offer them. When neither is willing to take a chance, one of them is forced to be the catalyst of change or the opportunity will slip past them both.
1. Chapter 1

With every step she took towards the front of the shuttle bay, with every mile the Normandy's engines put between them and Vancouver, the realization that she wouldn't be returning to the planet for a long time solidified in her stomach.

Once the bay's doors shut and locked into place, Payton was blind. They all were. She, Kaidan, and James stood in relative silence, though the grating shook beneath their feet and the Reaper klaxon echoed in their ears, and none of them bothered to break the quiet with words. No one knew what to say. They communicated in awkward glances – worried glances – faces with furrowed brows and frowns enough for more than a group of three.

A tense few minutes passed, and their faith in Joker's piloting skills increased tenfold when they were certain the Normandy would not be shot down. Most of the Reapers were planetside. Only a few remained outside of the atmosphere, anticipating a ship that never came. Or, at least, a ship they never saw as it streaked past.

But finally – finally, after Payton's lungs began burning due to a held breath – Joker's voice was heard over the Normandy's intercom.

"We're clear."

Both Payton and Kaidan exhaled at that, the latter's breath shaking as it left him. James, however, looked even more puzzled than he had before. He breathed easily, inhaling and exhaling time and again before uttering a quiet, "_Shit_."

Kaidan rubbed a hand over his own shoulder. The muscle there was tight beneath his palm, and no manner of massage could ease the ache. "Tell me about it," he murmured. Glancing in the direction of the ship's commander, his brows pinched upwards. "Where – where to next?"

Before the lieutenant could say _Earth_, Payton shook her head and gave her confession: "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

James' immediate response made Shepard's head snap in his direction, and her stomach roiled in response. "Anderson said the Citadel, which makes the most sense," she said, her words seemingly slow and deliberate. This was the time to make kneejerk decisions, to act on instinct and to act quickly, but Payton only narrowed her eyes and lifted her hand to check the back of her head. "So we're going to the Citadel."

"We _can't_." James took a step forward, one that was matched by the major. Payton's eyes met his again, but only for a moment before their line of sight was broken by her turning away. Kaidan kept in stride, eagerly waiting for an order or information or something. It was James who stood at the back of the shuttle bay, shotgun in his arms and a shocked look on his face. He hadn't been brushed off that quickly since he was a private. Once the initial surprise was chased away, he chased after both of them. "We can't just leave them down there!"

"We don't have any choice," Payton muttered. Even as she spoke, she didn't stop walking. "We can do more if we go get -"

James huffed; the sound was so thoroughly disgusted both her speech and her lengthy strides came to a halt. "We're running the hell away! They need our help down there. We have to go back. Get Anderson. Kick those things off our planet!"

He stared at her back for a moment, at the rigid lines of her shoulders and the dark red bruise blooming at the top of her neck. There was something that needed to be said. He could feel a response coming, but the words never arrived. Instead, Payton continued her trek up to the front of the shuttle bay, leaving him in the dust a second time.

"Hey! _Hey_, listen to me. We've gotta -"

"No."

"The fuck do you mean _no_."

"Watch your mouth soldier," Payton snapped before whirling around. The action pulled bile up her throat, bile she was forced to swallow as she worked her jaw. Everything sounded muffled, as if she had a blanket wrapped around her from head to toe. Her body burned warm enough to subscribe to that theory. "You're speaking to a superior officer."

James' nostrils flared. "And we're standing here talking while people are down on Earth dying. What's a few words to that, huh?"

Anderson told her to get to the Citadel. He told her that they needed help from the Council, that everyone on Earth needed her if any number of them were going to survive. This was important. This was urgent. She refused to turn back now. James muttered an apology, but he never moved. Not an inch. He still stood there, looking angry and frustrated as ever, solidly built and only an inch shorter than her. If he tried, he could take her down. Kaidan would give him trouble, but even that wasn't a given.

She hated working with unknown quantities.

"You don't talk to me like that on my own ship."

"We have to -"

"We _have_to get to the Citadel," she countered, her voice raising and her stomach churning simultaneously. "If you want to get back to Earth after that, be my guest. But I'm not going back there unless I have a whole fleet with me."

James stared at her. For the longest time, he could do nothing but stare. Even before the Reapers hit Earth, she had a way of stopping him cold in his tracks, but this was different. She wasn't the infallible Commander Shepard. She was running away. She was tucking her tail between her legs and getting out of the Sol system as quickly as she could. If he had any venom left in him to spare, the word coward might come to mind in a rush of frustration that he would regret later. As it was, he couldn't put his heart into anything other than getting back on ground and saving as many people as he could.

"You bet your ass I will." His voice was low, barely more than an angry mumble, but that was enough to satisfy her. She turned away with a deliberate nod and not a single word.

The look Kaidan gave him was no less than a glare, thick brows already knitted together. But the lines of worry in his forehead abated when he turned his attention towards Payton. The easy transition between his glare and the man's soft voice would have thrown James off if not for the obvious fact that the major's words weren't meant to soothe him. "We have to talk to the Council," he said, bridging the gap between him and the commander. "See what there is we can do. Maybe... maybe start damage control. God knows they probably haven't taken any measures to protect themselves from the Reaper threat."

Payton's fingers tapped on the console. Ring, middle, and index, over and over again. "They haven't," she told him. "The Committee didn't believe me when I told them their first, last, and only line of defense wouldn't stand up against one Reaper, much less an entire fleet of them. Why would the Council? Or anyone else, for that matter?"

"There are some people out there who believe you," Kaidan said as he stepped up at her side.

"Not enough."

A quiet, contemplative sound rumbled in his throat. "Then you have to make them believe you, Shepard. That's how it's been since Eden Prime. You've just got to shout louder this time."

Payton's head dipped down, hands planted on the desk and her shoulders taut. Now that he was standing so much closer, he could see the pain in her face. Pain that wasn't entirely emotional, written so clearly he could see it in profile. "You okay?" he asked. She wasn't bleeding, which meant she hadn't taken a bullet during the firefight. He wasn't aware of what went on before they met up on the Normandy, but there was something wrong. "You're white as a sheet."

"I'm fine." Her eyes moved up towards the orange glow of the console's omni-board, though the screen was blank with intermittent sizzles of static. "I got knocked around a bit back on Earth. Grade I concussion at the most."

"You should sit down. We'll be out of this system soon enough."

Payton lifted a hand to stop him. "No. I'm fine. I just need a minute."

Kaidan knew better than to press her, so he didn't. All he offered her was a soft, "Just be careful, alright?" before he turned away. While she didn't acknowledge him, he knew she heard. He knew she would listen. There wasn't a single person in the galaxy who knew her own limits the way she did. There was a time to push and a time to hang back, to linger and collect yourself. This was one of those times.

At least, it was. For all of a moment, there was the promise of time to think. There was so much to consider – the losses, the subsequent attacks on Luna and other human colonies, on alien homeworlds around the galaxy, and even the Citadel itself. Sitting down was an option Payton didn't relish taking at a time like this, but she didn't believe there was another path to take. However, the illusion of choice was broken soon after when Joker's voice filled the shuttle bay.

"Commander, we're getting a signal from Admiral Hackett."

"Patch him through, Joker."

The three soldiers watched as Admiral Hackett gave them their mission. The mission kept them in the system, but at least there was direction. There was something to do to postpone the inevitable stonewalling she'd get from the Council and the guilt James would feel the second they hit the Charon Relay.

They would complete whatever assignment Hackett gave them. Not because they were obligated to do so, but because they all recognized how quickly the situation went from dire to hopeful, how the mention of the Prothean archives sent a thrill into Payton's stomach and even caused Kaidan's frown to ease momentarily. Humanity had been hit right between the eyes, but there was still possibility and chance and blind reaching to rely on. And if this flailing grasp would help them get a hold of something that might help, that would be enough for all of them.

When Hackett's connection went dead, Payton turned towards the two men at her back. Her posture was straight again, as if the admiral's words put the marine right back into her, and she saw two expectant face reflecting back at her. Kaidan spoke first.

"So... Mars, huh?"

"Never actually been to Mars," James said. He shifted on his feet, arms folding across his chest. "What do you think we're gonna find there?"

Sand. Sand and a dig site and an Alliance facility and the Prothean archives. What was buried in the information was unknown to her, but it would help. No matter what it was, there had to be something there that would give them an edge, a foothold onto how to defeat the Reapers. "Information," she said plainly. "Something worth digging for. If Liara's there, we know whatever it is, it's important."

"Liara?"

Payton smiled, if only a little. "She's a friend. She'll... know what we're looking for." When she realized James was less than convinced, she continued. "Asari. Prothean expert. She was with me when we defeated Saren."

"Ah, right."

Tilting her chin up, Payton raised her voice into the open air of the shuttle bay. "Joker, plot a course for Mars. We've got work to do."

When the pilot replied, she could hear a chuckle of reproach in his voice, as if he couldn't believe she still thought he didn't have a handle on the situation at all times. "Already on it, commander. ETA... uh, well, we'll see. Not used to playing hide and seek with Reapers. That might change things up a bit."

"Just get us there," she called out to him. "I know you can."

"Hell yes, I can. Time to get the gang back together. Again." A sigh echoed over the communications system. "How many times are we gonna have to do this?"

Payton's brow wrinkled. "Hopefully this is the last time."

"Yeah, barring class reunions. I got it."

"Get your gear." Stepping away from the console, Shepard split through Kaidan and James, body twisting as she moved through them and towards the weapon's bench not far off. "We'll be there in an hour or two, but keep your heads on straight. There's too much riding on the removal of whatever knowledge Liara discovered to have this mission fail. We get there, get Liara, get out, and then make our way to the Relay. No exceptions."

James knew her comments were directed towards him. Even though he could tell Alenko's heart wasn't fully in the game, Shepard trusted him a great deal more. She worked with him before; she knew he wouldn't fail. There was nothing to keep her from believing otherwise about James. But instead of opening his mouth, he kept quiet for once, opting to clean his shotgun while Payton and Kaidan strapped themselves into their armor instead of hassling either of them.

Still, any attempts at diplomacy didn't stop him from looking over.

They didn't stop him from gritting his teeth as he put the pieces of his shotgun back together, quickly and efficiently with hands that knew the process by heart. Payton stood off from both of them as she pieced her armor back together, movements staggered by time, her hands fumbling slightly as the seals locked at her back.

She was distracted. Her head was in the shuttle bay, painful but present. It was her heart that was back on Earth, just like his. Just like everyone's.

The major wasn't paying attention. He was already strapped and buckled tight into his armor, his focus turned to his pistol without so much as a hitch. James worked his jaw as he inserted a heat sink into his shotgun, eyes narrowed at the floor a few feet off instead of Shepard. He hated feeling like this, like he'd walked into a conversation halfway through and then the words just stopped coming.

Not that it mattered.

Leaning his head against the crate at his back, James shut his eyes. The second they got to the Citadel, he'd be on the first ship with a captain ballsy enough to want to help. Odds didn't matter to him. He had to get back to Earth. He had to find some way to help, and he couldn't do that sitting in the shuttle bay while Payton propositioned the Council.

Anderson brought him on to look after Shepard while she was in lockdown.

She had her people now. That meant he could go back to his.


	2. Chapter 2

"This is such bullshit!"

"Is that your final answer, lieutenant?"

James stared at the pilot's chair for a moment before rolling his eyes and turning away. He took two steps in the direction of the CIC before turning right back around and heading back, this time taking three. "I should be down there," he said, mostly to himself, though Joker was only a few feet away. "I can't be stuck up here. It's _bull _-"

"Shit. I get it," Joker snapped out, interrupting James' train of thought before tugging up the brim of his SR-2 cap. He twisted in his chair, looking up at James from beneath furrowed brows. "Do you even know any other words?"

"She sent me back to the ship for what? To keep _you_company? Yeah, right."

Joker shifted back around. "Shepard sent you back here for a reason. She'll need extraction if things get hot. No way in hell am I walking all the way down there if she needs the shuttle." He pulled the cap back down, staring out at the Alliance facility with a bored expression. "You don't _have_to hover up here, you know. You could go clean your gun or headbutt a bulkhead or something. Whatever you like to do for fun."

"Maybe I like to annoy smartass pilots."

"Oh, great." Breathing out a sigh, Joker glanced towards EDI, whose blue light filled the cockpit in stark, soothing contrast to the red horizon that stretched out around the base. It pulsed, the lights shifting constantly back and forth as if it was breathing. "EDI, remind me to put in for a transfer."

After being a part of the Normandy crew for months on end, the AI knew better. Joker was teasing, and offering up some kind of response would only end badly, more likely for the pilot than for the newcomer.

James continued to pace up and down the catwalk leading into the CIC. He knew he was only making this worse on himself, agitating his already frayed nerves by walking back and forth, by bickering, by refusing to accept his orders as fair ones. He could've been useful down on Mars. He had energy enough; the Reaper attack had him hitting all cylinders. Adrenaline wasn't a problem. Drive wasn't an issue. So why was he standing in the cockpit? Why was he waiting?

Every now and then, the communications unit in Shepard's hardsuit picked up conversation. While they didn't have a map of the base, the two could track where she was and how close she was to the cache, if only vaguely.

The major's voice came through even clearer, though, and James found himself rolling his eyes every time he made a comment about Cerberus. He never openly questioned Shepard's loyalty, but there was something in his voice that smacked of disbelief, like he was expecting her to change her mind.

"So... Cerberus."

Joker busied himself as the ship's flight controls, brows knitting as he picked the ship up off of the ground. "No, I'm not: racist, a sociopath, a sleeper agent, or a robot."

"Hey, I was just curious. What else am I gonna do up here? Twiddle my thumbs?"

Shrugging, the pilot had the ship pull a wide circle around the facility. The dust storm was getting closer, kicking up a wall of red who knows how many stories high. Not even the Normandy would give that kind of nature pause. "Might be cathartic." Glancing at James, Joker leaned closer to the arm of his seat. "Do you ever stop talking? Because even I'm kind of getting annoyed."

James shrugged off the slight only to turn around again. Everything felt heavy, as if the fact he was standing there in full armor and doing nothing doubled the weight of the suit itself. His footfalls were heavy. His hands hung at his sides. Even his chin pulled downwards, eyes focused on the floor in front of him. "This is such -" He caught himself, gritting his teeth to keep from letting himself slip a third time. Or fourth or fifth. He couldn't remember. "I bet I could do ten times the damage the major could down there."

"Comparing dick sizes with a superior," Joker muttered to himself. "That's new."

"Whatever. I'm going down to the shuttle bay."

As James made his way towards the elevator, he heard a shout behind him. "Stop off at the med bay! I think Chakwas keeps a little humility stocked for emergencies!"

He passed Traynor without a word and punched in directions to the shuttle bay, shoulders squared as the door slid closed behind him. This wasn't even about showing off anymore. Shepard knew he was a soldier. She knew he was a top notch marine, one of the best. Anderson wouldn't have gone so far to find him if he wasn't. This was about idling on the ship until she needed a ride. It was about being underutilized.

Sitting in the detention center for six months hadn't done either of them any favors, but he was young and powerful and could wield a shotgun like the weapon was an extension of his arm. So why wasn't he down there?

The elevator hadn't descended more than a single floor when it came to a halt. The door slid open to reveal the crew desk, and James turned around to close them again. Before he could, however, he heard Shepard's voice over the comm system.

Her words were fuzzy. They were broken. But even among the pops and sizzles and even the rare silence, he could hear an edge of clipped desperation. They were being attacked on a wider scale than they had at first. A handful of men had turned into an entire squad in a few minutes flat, and they were taking heavy fire. Though she didn't mention an extraction, James pressed heavier against the elevator's console. He was going to get them out of there and quickly.

"I'll be there in ten, Shepard," he said as the elevator's door closed a second time, voice raised louder than before in hopes that she would hear him. Her reply was shrouded in static, and he repeated himself to no avail.

Shepard never replied after that.

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, James could feel the adrenaline flowing through him. This renewal was due in no small part to the sense of urgency he could hear in the commander's voice, even if the words were undecipherable. He had to get out there. He knew he did.

No sooner had he concluded that chasing her down in the shuttle was the best plan of action did the elevator open again, this time on the shuttle bay's floor.

He twisted around to see the shuttle primed and ready to take off in whatever direction it was needed, all shiny blue paint and sleek design. The Kodiak wasn't really his kind of vehicle, but there was nothing that would keep him from leaving the Normandy and essentially saving Commander Shepard's ass.

Cortez was sitting in the pilot's seat when James rounded the corner. "Joker comm'd," he said without raising his eyes from the console. "First rescue mission with this crew, huh? Screw this up and the entire galaxy is doomed; that's gotta be fun. If you scratch my shuttle..."

"Yeah, yeah, you'll get your kid back in no time," James told him with a flash of a smile Steve didn't catch. The shuttle pilot stood from the seat and backed up against the wall so James could replace him. "First and last rescue mission, Esteban. No way am I sticking with this crew. I'm going back. You should come with."

Cortez was off of the shuttle by the time he answered, calling back a, "No thank you! Safer here with Shepard than back on Earth. I'll pass!"

James' focus shifted as Steve opened up the shuttle bay door on Joker's order. His eyes narrowed at the controls. His fingers flexed in his gloves as they hovered over the omni-board, calling on whatever muscle memory he could pull together from his short experience flying shuttles in Basic. He preferred being on the ground. He was a grunt, after all, and grunts didn't fly. They ran and jumped and hugged the ground.

But this grunt was ready to swoop in and make a statement; he was ready to dive into the fray headfirst. This wasn't just Shepard's fight. This was his fight, too, and he didn't have the patience to sit around and bide his time.

As James pulled the shuttle off of the ship, he could hear that same fizzling comm traffic from only minutes before. The storm made the connection difficult to begin with, but there was something else, something either intercepting the signal or intentionally distorting it. With the knowledge that the facility was infested with Cerberus came the realization that this wasn't just nature giving them the finger.

Shepard was saying something. Shouting orders, it seemed. Every now and then he caught a word. Cover, scientist, Illusive. Only once did a full sentence fight its way through the static.

"You're making a mistake."

The background noise skewed the sound of her voice, but the words were clear. And for a moment, James wondered what she was talking about. His first thought was of the Illusive Man. It wasn't surprising that someone like Shepard would consider his actions a mistake. Everyone with their conscience intact would be quick to pass that judgement. But to say that to him, to his face, in such a level way seemed completely out of left field.

But this was Shepard. This was the woman who threw him off on a daily basis during her six month incarceration. While he couldn't see himself attempting to rationalize with the head of Cerberus, the fact that she might suddenly didn't seem so difficult to comprehend.

After that clearing in the channel, things went dead. There was no static, no fizzing or popping or chopped up words he might be able to understand if he focused hard enough.

There was nothing but the hum of the shuttle and his own breathing.

"Shit."

Guiding the shuttle around the base, his eyes darted between the sandstorm, the facility, and the radar. There were two dots, one for Shepard and one for the major, standing what looked like yards apart. He knew Liara was still there, but her armor hadn't been wired for the shuttle to pick up her location.

James watched the two indicators like a hawk as the shuttle came to a stop midair. There was no use flying the thing around when he didn't know where to go, didn't know when she'd need him.

When Shepard moved, the blip followed, and the shift in position was so sudden James' breath hitched in his throat. Clearing it, he watched as the blip continued moving towards the other and quickly, watched as one stopped, watched as they both began to move again.

"James!"

The lieutenant jerked to attention, position shifting in his chair until he was focused on the controls once again. "Orders?" he asked, posture stiff and almost coiled, waiting for so much as a word from Shepard before taking off. But she didn't reply. "Orders!"

Shepard's voice was strained when he heard her again. "Pull around! She's trying to escape!"

There was no question in his mind as his hands goaded the shuttle into taking action, the speed shoving his shoulders back into the seat. He didn't ask her who 'she' was, why she was trying to escape, or even their location. He merely followed the blips, his body ducking and weaving in an attempt to spot them as they ran across the facility.

When he finally caught sight of Shepard, he was already too far out ahead. There was another shuttle hugging the edge of the building, and the woman in question was heading right for it. He couldn't intercept her. It was too late for that. However, that wouldn't stop him from finding some way to get that shuttle down, even if it meant shooting it out of the sky.

Without taking his eyes off of the skyline, James jerked the shuttle around, effectively swerving it in an almost 180 degree turn. The nose ducked to make up for the sudden change in direction, but he made up for the loss in altitude by a gain in speed.

But whatever weapon he reached for didn't come. The shuttle had only just been put on the Normandy, recently upgraded and woefully unloaded. There were missiles enough to take down a Reaper, but those missiles were in the shuttle bay waiting to be installed, leaving James with nothing but his shotgun in terms of munitions.

"We lost her."

Anyone else might have sounded desperate at that point, but there was little more than an edge of disappointment to Shepard's words.

As the shuttle sped up, James' fingers flexed outward, tips digging into the controls. He squared his jaw. He took a breath. "Not yet we haven't." There was a quiet, 'What?' from her end, but little else. He couldn't hear anything above the blood pounding in his ears, the grind of his adrenaline-soaked muscles beneath his armor. "I've got this."

The Kodiak wasn't the Mako by any means, but he knew better than to think it would crumble under a blow, even at these speeds. And he was right. He slammed into the Cerberus shuttle with a metallic scream, knocking the thing out of the sky and back towards the facility with enough force to send it crashing to the ground in a rush of smoke and flames.

"Shit." No matter how steady he held the controls, the shuttle was knocked off balance, swerving and pitching and making his head swim. "Shit, shit. Fly straight! Stupid fucking - argh!"

The communications unit picked up a shout of the major's name, and soon after, there were bullets in his ears. A pistol fired off a handful of times only to have another heat sink inserted and unloaded again. His pulse was racing fast enough; being blind to what was happening was worse than being deaf to it. He could hear Shepard's breath, a quiet curse he couldn't make out.

When he finally landed the shuttle on the platform, there were two bodies on ground.

One belonged to what he assumed was the Cerberus infiltrator, metal with bits of charred synthetic skin still clinging around cinders of fabric. The other was the major, pulled away from the wreckage of the Cerberus shuttle and laid out limp in Shepard's shadow. The awkward angle of his limbs didn't look promising.

"Lieutenant, grab her." Shepard's order was issued as tersely as could be expected, back turned to him and her gloved hands moving over Kaidan's armor to survey the damage. "It. Grab... it. Liara, check the shuttle for whatever first aid you can find."

Liara nodded without a word. Despite her limp, she moved quickly, moving past him with the determined speed of someone desperate to help.

James lifted the android and slung it over his shoulder, watching as Shepard stood up from where she'd been kneeling to tug Kaidan off of the ground and into a fireman's carry. She didn't have anything else to say to him, not at the moment, and she made her way in the direction of the shuttle without so much as a thanks.

The response wasn't unfounded, but that didn't stop him from hefting the android up a little higher on his shoulder. It didn't stop him from muttering a curse to himself. And it certainly didn't stop him from looking back at the twisted and burning wreckage of the Cerberus shuttle with an odd sort of pride.

The Cerberus agent was dead, in a manner of speaking. It hadn't gotten away with whatever it was trying to get away with.

He knew crashing the shuttle had been the only way to succeed, but that didn't mean he and Shepard would see eye to eye. Even though he'd salvaged the mission, he knew what kind of leader she was. All it took was seeing her in action.

Reckless. That's the word she'd probably use to describe him.

Tossing the android to the floor of the shuttle, James moved past Liara as she removed the major's helmet, a torn packet of medigel already between her teeth. He sat down at the controls again. The Kodiak rumbled, but lifted off of the ground without a hitch.

Maybe he was, and maybe she didn't see the worth in that.

But he got the job done.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I just wanted to thank you guys for the reviews, favorites, and alerts! I'll likely be updating this fic _often_ (so many Vega feelings), so the encouragement makes everything all the sweeter. Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

Payton took a deep breath the moment Admiral Hackett faded in shades of blue from the QEC.

Even after he was gone, she held her salute for a beat before letting her hand move to her side, every muscle in her body still tight from standing at attention. She could feel Liara lingering within the confines of the room, waiting to either listen or say something, and to her merit, that was exactly what Payton needed. Any small encouragement would help her in the walk from the unfamiliar war room to the medical bay.

All she needed was another voice in her ears. She needed something familiar to counteract Hackett's dismal predictions, to force out the doom pounding in a halo around her head. And the voice she wanted to hear more than anything was Liara's.

"That was... bracing," her friend murmured. "The admiral knows the risks better than anyone in the human fleet other than you. And yet he seems hopeful this might work."

Wetting her bottom lip, Payton turned to face her. "Even I don't think we have much of a chance." Liara's wide eyes were hooded, focused on the details on the walls around them instead of the woman in front of her, but when her hesitations were voiced, they moved back towards her face, brows pinched upwards as if she couldn't quite believe what was being said.

"He's always had faith in you. It's well-founded."

"Maybe." Payton took a step forward. Liara stepped out of the room, glancing over her shoulder to see if she would follow. She did. "We've already lost... so many ships. The Alliance is either dead or scattered or stuck back on Earth. And my history with the Council doesn't inspire much confidence that they may help."

"This is very different. You have concrete proof that the Reapers exist and are attacking." Taking the short set of stairs that led into the ring banded around the center console, she twisted to watch Shepard follow her steps. Once she was closer, Liara reached out to rest a hand on her forearm. "There's no way they can deny you this. Not with your homeworld – not with things how they are."

With every logical step came a negative thought that beat it back. Knowing that Earth was being attacked might urge the Council to help, but there was always a chance that they might ignore the threat once again and hope for the best. Even when said hope was in short supply, it duplicated when denial was added into the mix. Every thought fed another. Any flicker of optimism was quickly quelled. Not by pessimism, but by realism. That harsh reality made Payton's aching head spin.

But instead of grasping at her forehead, she stared into the holographic images projected in front of her, of the scant few Alliance ships at her disposal and the blueprints for the Crucible. It was like trying to take down a flagship with a pistol, like trying to sail through the Omega-4 on nothing but a raft.

"There's so much we need." Her voice was quiet, hand gripped at her wrist behind her back and eyes narrowed towards the interface. "Materials and manpower and who knows what else. The Catalyst... We don't even know where to find it. We don't know what it is. I –" A sigh shook on her lips. "We have to find out. Sooner, rather than later."

"We may not have the luxury of waiting any longer than that."

Liara's comment wasn't meant to drive the point home or knock her off balance. It was the truth, something the asari never neglected to share with her.

"You're the genius here, Liara," Payton said, looking to her with an expression that bordered upon expectant. "You should be able to figure it out. I'll make sure you have enough time and the resources you need."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence."

The commander nodded, the corner of her mouth turning up for all of a moment before falling back into place. "You've never given me any reason to doubt you."

Liara's smile was wider, lips spreading to reveal a row of teeth as her eyes fell to the floor. Moments like these pulled Payton directly into the past. Liara's shy grin was reminiscent of the ones she saw on the original Normandy, when she was given any measure of praise for her knowledge or biotic talents. They'd come so far. "As I said, I appreciate it. The trust you put in me means... It means so much. Very few people deserve such faith."

"You've saved my life who knows how many times. You helped me defeat Saren. And your medical attention today may have saved Kaidan's life. You deserve every bit of it."

"Speaking of Kaidan..."

When Liara's smile faded and the skin wrinkled between her brows, Payton felt something in her stomach churn. Dread, worry, guilt - she wasn't entirely sure. But the feeling was thick and refused to budge, not as long as Liara held her tongue. "He's stable, but... We need to get to the Citadel, Payton. He needs surgery. There's - there's swelling that I can do nothing about and bones I don't have the means to set."

"So... not stable, then?" Payton's voice echoed around her ears as if the words hadn't come from her throat, as if they hadn't formed in her own head.

Liara looked away before she was able to shake her head. "He is for now, but I don't know how long we can keep him that way without a trained medical professional on board." When Payton was able to get a better look into Liara's eyes, she found that they were worried, more worried than she'd ever seen them. "I can stay with him on the approach, but... you should check on him."

"I'll do that." Stepping forward, Payton rested a hand on Liara's shoulder, her chin dipping down so she could look into her eyes again. "We'll get him to the Citadel, Liara. You did the best you could with what you have."

"But what if it's not enough?" Liara's words clung to her throat, pitching her voice lower than her usual tone. "We can only try for so long before -"

No conversation was ever one-sided. There was no such thing anymore. Every string of sentences had double meanings; every thought was dressed with worries of some other, far off thing. Nothing was singular, not when there was so much going on around them. Liara's worry wasn't only reflected on Kaidan's well-being. They had barely entered the fight and things already looked dire. Anyone with sense doubted themselves and the extent of their abilities. Anyone with sense was already frayed around the edges, thought processes skewed and bent and occasionally shattered completely.

Payton wouldn't allow her friend to be overcome with doubt. Even if they were meant to fight this war fruitlessly for decades, she'd never let Liara believe there was an end to what she was capable of doing.

"We're almost at the Relay," Payton told her. "We'll be at the Citadel in a few hours. You can do this, Liara."

"It is not just about -"

"I know." Her thumb ran over the curve of Liara's shoulder. "But what I said still stands."

Liara took a deep breath and released it as slowly as she could manage. "Thank you," she told Payton for what felt like the thousandth time. "I'll check to see if I have any new information. I've been sending out contacts to try to find out where this Catalyst might be. Once you're finished visiting him, I'll... I'll stay with him. To make sure his vitals stay strong."

Nodding, Payton stepped away and made quick work of the stairs leading up towards the CIC. While checking on Kaidan was a priority, there was also the question of contacting the Council and arranging a meeting. They were bound to be swamped, just as they had been every day after the incident involving the Bahat system. Batarians were demanding reparations and every other alien race was calling for justice or preemptive measures to be taken so that it wouldn't happen to their people.

Interrupting the proceedings might not win her any favor with the general public, but there was a warning she had to give them. Even if it meant falling farther in their esteem, she didn't have any other choice. She had to be heard.

Payton was halfway between the elevator and the medical bay when the doors opened to allow James to exit.

He was still in his armor, brows pinched above his nose and jaw set long before he realized who he was walking towards. The tautness of his features ebbed as they slowed to a stop only a few feet from each other, though there was still a heat broiling beneath the surface that even she could detect.

"Are you alright?" she asked. Casual, but not cordial. "Were you hurt in the crash?"

"M'fine."

Payton's brow arched.

"Commander."

"So why were you in the med bay?" Lacing her fingers together, she held her hands in front of her. The look she gave him wasn't curious. She wasn't angry or comforted by the fact that he was okay. She didn't even seem frustrated with his stunt. There was nothing but a critical spark in her already light eyes.

James' tongue prodded at the corner of his mouth as he shifted on his feet. "Checking on the major. Seeing if there was anything I could do. There wasn't, so I'm heading back down to the shuttle bay."

"Are you still planning on leaving once we get to the Citadel?"

He shrugged.

"You were sure of it a few hours ago."

"Yeah, well, the major wasn't in a coma a few hours ago."

Payton nodded. "We could use you. It's important you realize that. Flying headfirst back to Earth is a bad move. You're just throwing more numbers at them; there's no way to defeat the Reapers groundside on _one_ planet."

"I know, alright? I know." Despite the heat in his words, she could tell he wasn't entirely convinced. There was something there holding him back, keeping him from believing what he was saying. Maybe it was confusion. Maybe it was panic or fear or whatever other painful emotion might bloom in your gut after seeing your homeworld destroyed. All she knew was that he wasn't sure. "Earth needs you to figure shit out. And you need an extra gun."

"Firepower isn't going to win these first few battles."

He stared across at her, at the marine standing only a few steps away, and he couldn't believe what he was hearing. There was a time for tactics. There was a time for sitting back and making calculations. That time wasn't while Earth was burning, while people were dying by the millions every day they stayed away.

But it wasn't his place to argue. He wanted to more than anything, but there was nothing he could say to change her mind. No amount of shouting would budge her. No amount of chest-beating or raging or shots fired would make this woman flinch from what she knew she had to do. And James didn't know whether he should admire her for it or change his mind about staying.

"We do need you, though," Payton amended. "Maybe later on your shotgun may come in handy. Until then, I need you to promise me that you'll stop being so reckless. You won't be able to help anyone back on Earth if you get yourself killed through some foolish stunt."

"I took that Cerberus shuttle down! They would've gotten away if I hadn't -"

"Major Alenko is dying, and we still might not be able to access the information the Cerberus AI removed from the databank." Her arms folded over her chest, and she stared at him, unwavering. "You're right. You took the shuttle down, but you also put yourself and my crew in danger by pulling something like that during a sensitive mission."

James took a step forward. "I took the Cerberus shuttle down. The AI didn't get away. We've got the information. I did what you, the major, and Liara couldn't do."

"You could have gotten yourself killed," she repeated.

"I didn't."

"_You could have_."

"But I _didn't_ -"

"Enough, lieutenant! I'm not going to stand here and argue with you about this. Do _not_ do that again. I don't care if its within the mission parameters or if someone might escape before we're finished. You will not pull something like that again. And if you do, you're off my ship."

The noise that left James was somewhere between a huff and a growl, though it was muffled all the same, bitten back to keep from putting a voice to his mounting annoyance.

He knew he wouldn't leave. He swore he would when he could still see Earth burning in the distance. But now that he'd witnessed the reality of the situation, leaving wasn't an option. He had to help. Killing a few of his own men, none of them more than passably human any longer, wasn't the way to do that.

Even so, the reminder that he'd be flying in the backseat of the Normandy and cleaning his guns while everyone else went out because the commander didn't trust him made him feel sick.

"If you want to leave, then leave. If you want to stay, you'll have to pull your weight without endangering my squad. That's it. Those are your orders." Payton stared at him, her chin tilted higher than before and her blue eyes narrowed. "I'm not asking you for much. I'm asking you to be trustworthy, to think before you act."

James nodded, if vaguely, before turning away from her and walking off towards the way she'd come. His movements were stiff, uncomfortable, as if she'd jabbed her fingers into some soft spot he hadn't been quick enough to protect.

Instead of lingering to wonder what spot that happened to be, Payton's attention shifted to her original plan. Checking on Kaidan wouldn't end in an argument, at the very least.

She passed through the door to find him in the same spot she'd left him, stripped down to the jumpsuit under his armor and left with one of the privates scattered around the ship while those looking after him tended to their business. The private saluted her, a gesture which she accepted with a nod, not bothering to watch as the young man left to join everyone else in the mess.

Kaidan looked bad. She'd seen him on the worst of days. She'd seen him beaten up, dejected, and suffering from migraines so strong he could barely open his eyes. But she'd never seen him like this - split lips parted, cheekbone and eye swollen, his skin purple and red from his brow to his hairline.

Payton's fingers slipped around Kaidan's wrist, the tips brushing over a pulse she was glad she could feel.

"Hey, Kaidan," she murmured. Her thumb brushed up and down the soft skin on the inside of his forearm, the comforting measures taken for herself more than the man on the examination table. "You've got to hang in there, alright? I have a few things to ask you."

The med bay was quiet save for the bleeping of a few machines and the almost silent hum of the ship. She could see the steady rise and fall of his chest. Everything there told her he was alive, though a large part of her still wondered if they'd get to the Citadel in time.

"You were never much of a pain in the ass. I swear, LTs like you were are a dime a dozen these days."

Though she didn't expect a reply, she couldn't help but hope for one. Maybe he'd open his eyes and give her some husky explanation about her leadership abilities slipping. Or maybe he'd remind her that he was older than James when they met on the SR-1. Maybe he'd tell her to give the lieutenant a shot, that she was right, even though he was rough around the edges. They needed him. She needed him to be part of his squad.

Taking an even breath, Payton let go of it slowly, turning her face away from Kaidan's to look up at the ceiling of the med bay.

They'd get there. They had to.

It was too early in this war to start losing friends.


	4. Chapter 4

Donnel Udina was a largely disfavored man.

For someone in such a fantastic position of power, Payton regarded her choice to make him a councilor as an all around bad decision. At the time, little else made sense. Anderson was not a politician. Over the years she'd known him, she also got to know his utter lack of tact. His rash streak was thick and was still painted in a bright red, no matter how his older age treated him.

Udina was a consummate politician, which only lent to her reasoning behind disliking him now. If Anderson was in his place, he'd know what to do. He would appeal to the council's nature through explanation, through details picked up in the soles of his Alliance-assigned boots. Councilor Sparatus had once been part of the turian military; Anderson's appeal would strike him even more dearly than idle chatter, she knew.

Perhaps if Councilors Valern and Tevos saw the desperation of the events, they might change their mind. They might send their armies, same as the turians. And if they had every fleet in the galaxy on their side, perhaps they would come out of this confrontation victorious.

Tapping her fingers against the desk, Payton's eyes fell to the floor at her feet. But if Anderson was here, he wouldn't be back on Earth. He'd be stuck on the Citadel with guilt and regret, and she didn't want that for him, either. He deserved better than that, but she was afraid of what might happen to him if he remained on Earth. There were too many possibilities. Every time she heard that there was a call from Hackett through the QEC, there'd be a fear, a fear that Hackett would look at her with a solemn expression and tell her Anderson was dead.

There were no pure positives in war. Everyone was on cracked and shaky ground. Still, she wished there was something she could do to help the man who helped her.

"Shepard."

Payton looked up from her boots to see Udina walking towards her. There was nothing deceiving her about his appearance. His grays were gone from his hair, but sprinkled over his jaw, aging him despite his blatant attempts at the opposite. And he looked tired. The flecked skin around his eyes was as tight as the rest of him, arms stiff at his side and any bounce in his step utterly gone.

"Councilor," she greeted as she pushed herself away from his desk. "What is it you wanted to discuss?"

A thick brow arched on his forehead. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Earth?"

Udina grunted and waved her off, passing up his desk and chair to stand near his office's tall window. "I've heard about Earth. I keep hearing about Earth. Rather, I keep hearing that we've lost it."

"Anderson –"

"Is there, with the rest of them, either dead or dying or running around like a chicken with his head chopped off. I need answers. Solid answers, a strategy, something."

Payton folded her arms beneath her chest, looking to Udina instead of past him. "I'm afraid I don't have those."

"Of course not."

"Look, Udina, we were all taken by surprise. No one expected—"

Udina glanced at her over his shoulder. "You did," he returned, though his voice lacked the heat necessary for his interruption to be considered a jab. "You knew the Reapers were coming, and you warned each and every one of us. However, there's little a politician can do with idle speculation."

"Then use what we have now." She pressed forward, but didn't move from her spot beside his desk. "This isn't speculation. This is an attack on Earth, on the homeworld of a council race."

"A very recently acquired spot, I'm afraid. We haven't had time to acquire strong alliances with anyone here. Not strong enough to inspire them to abandon their own homeworlds in order to help us. They're more interested in protecting what's theirs."

Finally, Payton stepped forward. "Then we _make_ strong alliances. There has to be something we can do to get them on our side."

Shepard's suddenly impassioned tone gave Udina pause.

"As it happens, there is."

Their attention shifted in the direction of the voice - familiar with that turian gravel. Both of Payton's eyebrows arched at the realization that the voice belonged to Councilor Sparatus. He descended the few stairs quickly, coming to a stop closer to her than Udina. "What is it that you've been advising us on these past years? 'You should listen to Shepard. She knows better than any of us what she's talking about.'"

"Can we help you, councilor?" Payton managed a small smile that was more a gesture of good will than anything else. It was barely more genuine than a smirk.

"You can. I'm not so sure about 'we.'"

She could nearly hear Udina grind his teeth.

"I am not unwilling to give you the numbers you need," Sparatus began, speaking directly to Shepard without so much as another glance towards Udina. "But we are all worried about the state of our homeworlds. Palaven is in just as much danger as Thessia and Sur'kesh. Every inhabited planet is in danger from this threat. We must protect what is ours."

Payton nodded. "I understand, councilor, but humanity can't do this alone. We have to hit the Reapers while we still have the force to do it. If we wait too long, we'll be too spread out. We won't be able to coordinate an attack."

"This is what happened with the Protheans, correct?" Shepard nodded again, and Sparatus' mandibles flared. "They were even more advanced than we are now, and they fell. It seems unlikely that we could succeed where they failed so many thousands of years ago."

Everything he said made perfect sense. For the longest time, she didn't understand how they could face such an unstoppable force when the Protheans attempted to do the same only to die out completely. Humanity learned so much from the Prothean databanks on Mars. They contained knowledge far beyond the reach of human minds. If they couldn't conquer travel between solar systems on their own, how could they do this?

By taking what they learned from the Protheans and adding whatever they can to it.

"They hit the Protheans before the Crucible was finished. If we can complete it, we might stand a chance. The Reapers aren't invincible; we know that for a fact. They've driven so many races to extinction, but they don't have the same element of surprise they used to. We have bits and pieces of knowledge on our side. Something like muscle memory."

She could tell Sparatus was thinking. His hands rested on his hips, shoulders squared and his mandibles working as if he was consuming the information. "You'll have the turian fleet," he said after a while, clear in his resolve. "But this requires Primarch Fedorian's approval."

Udina's mutter of, "Of course it does," pulled a huff of displeasure from the turian councilor.

"In order to receive turian forces, Fedorian has to be at the summit. Our system is already under attack, and he needs extraction from his location on Menae, one of Palaven's moons. I'll be the first to admit his timing could not have been worse, but there's only so much I have power over in this situation."

"I understand," Payton told him. "I'll head to Menae as soon as I can. Thank you for coming to us. I would have been flying blind if not for this."

Sparatus stood up straighter. Every inch of him reflected that same turian pride she'd seen damned time and time again from birth. "We're all flying blind, Shepard. It's only right that we at least attempt to assist each other through with what we have."

"I'll remember to thank Primarch Fedorian when I see him, in that case."

"You do that," Sparatus replied, though his voice lacked the ease it held just before. "He's just as likely to ignore you as he is to help you, but we need him at the summit. Or there will be no summit."

Goodbyes were shared, and the door closed behind the turian councilor just as Udina sunk into the chair behind his desk. "The first hoop to jump through," he murmured to himself, though he pitched his voice loud enough for Payton to hear him. "Of many, I'm sure. All dangerous, all merely delaying the inevitable."

"You can't blame them," she said, moving over to stand in front of him. No sooner had her hands rested on the surface did her fingers begin tapping quietly, one after the other. "Throwing numbers at the Reapers won't kill them. We need to be organized. That's the only way we can win this."

"Do you honestly believe that, Shepard? Sovereign damn near wiped out an entire fleet, and he was just one Reaper."

Payton's brow furrowed. "We were unprepared. The losses could have been avoided if the Council had trusted me from the beginning."

"Does that sound like trust to you?"

Glancing in the direction of the door, Payton's breath shook in a sigh. "It sounds like... an opportunity to gain trust. They believe me. The Reapers are already spreading. They're here. They need us just as much as we need them."

"He's using you to extract a glorified politician. He wants you to head into a system swarmed with Reapers to save his people while ours are dying by the millions on Earth." Udina steepled his fingers, pressing them against his frown. "I'm not telling you to ignore the councilor's request. I'm telling you that your actions may not end in you receiving the benefits you expected."

"I'm expecting to save the life of Palaven's primarch and get him to the war summit." Payton's words were clipped, spoken through a jaw that twitched once the words ran dry. "Nothing else."

Udina looked up at her, his brows peaked and his fingers tapping against his lips. "Then maybe you should adjust your priorities. Earth needs a fleet, not a politician. If your attempts at gaining one over the other are fruitless, where do we go from there?"

She stared at him, lips parted as if she anticipated an answer, but none came.

"Exactly."

"Is there anything else I can help you with, councilor?"

Despite everything said between them, Udina had the gall to look surprised by her change in disposition. Payton was nearly impossible to anger; the moment frustration mounted, she grabbed for any reason to get out of that situation, and that was what this meeting had been reduced to. Still, he expected her to linger. He expected her to fight.

"Go to Menae and find Fedorian," he drawled in return, eyes falling back to his console. "Perhaps Sparatus will be easier to manipulate if he knows the primarch is safe."

"This isn't – _fine_."

Refusing to stand there and argue, Payton took that moment to leave, striding out of the room without so much as a formal goodbye. There was already too much weighing on getting Fedorian off of Menae. Lingering in Udina's office, bickering over circumstance, would only serve to detract from time she could give to the mission.

There was still business to be done on the Citadel. She knew she had to visit Kaidan. Her new armor was lacking in upgrades, and her recently acquired sniper rifle's scope was barely up to snuff. Even the ship lacked the commodities she was used to having around. And she needed to purchase a VI to feed her fish when she was out on long missions.

Once she was in the elevator, her index hovered over the list of choices. Her fingertip hovered over Huerta Memorial, and she made her decision without another thought.

There was a chance Kaidan would still be in surgery. There was also a chance that bad news might be waiting on the other side of the elevator doors.

When she arrived, however, it was James Vega – not bad news – she ran into on the other side.

He was standing near the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the stretch of Presidium they were privy to at this angle. With his hands in his pockets and his shoulders curved inward, everything about him seemed wildly uncomfortable. There was no one seated near him. No nurses, no doctors, and no patients - just James and the strained attempt at normalcy in his stance.

Payton eyed him as she walked towards the desk, breaking the line of sight to give her attention to the nurse behind the desk. The asari smiled; Payton replied in turn. "I was hoping I could visit Kaidan Alenko?" she asked, her voice splintering around the edges once the inquiry drew to a close.

"Of course, Commander Shepard."

At her name, she glanced towards James again, but this time he was turned around. His hands were still in his pockets, but he seemed less tense. When he nodded towards her, the pieces fell into place.

"Hm, yes, Major Alenko is resting now." At the sudden look of concern on Payton's face, the asari continued with a quick, "He's stable. Better than stable, actually; the doctors expect a full recovery, though I'm sure you'll want to hear it from them. If you'll give me a few minutes, I'll contact the nurse so she can finish her tests and clear out, for privacy's sake."

"Thank you." Payton nodded towards her and turned away from the desk. She caught James just as he was turning to face the window again, and she chose not to take a seat, crossing the waiting room to stand next to him instead. When she was at his side, she peered out of the glass, same as him. "How long have you been here?"

There was no ceremony or cordiality in her voice, and the sound made James chuckle good-naturedly. "About half an hour. Got tired waiting around the embassies, so I came here. I got the major a get well soon present."

"Oh?"

"Whiskey."

Payton pursed her lips. "Right."

"You drink?"

It was a simple question, a simple question that she could have responded to with a simple, "No." But there was nothing simple about this situation, and simple when an explanation should be there chafed at her more than anything. "I don't typically drink with my subordinates."

"Can't say I'm surprised," James said, though Payton wasn't sure if the statement was just that or a quiet jab at how she presented herself.

"Do you have much experience getting wasted with your COs?"

James gave a huff of a laugh. "Not wasted, no. All good things come in moderation." She arched her brow, clearly not buying it, and he palmed at the back of his neck. "Yeah, okay, that was bullshit."

A long moment of silence stretched between them, but there was nothing awkward in the quiet, nothing tense about the fact that she said nothing and he didn't bother to explain himself. They stood there, backs to the rest of the room, watching as taxis flew this way and that and admiring the clean brilliance of the Presidium.

After a while, Payton clarified her standpoint with an, "I don't mind having it on my ship." Looking over at him, she caught his eyes and didn't bother looking away. "I just don't do it myself. It's a personal choice, not a professional one."

"That's _damn_ good to hear, Lola."

"Lola?"

"I do nicknames. It's a thing." James slipped his hands out of his pockets and took a step away from her. "Maybe I'll drop some details when we get back to the ship. _Maybe_." He cast a distasteful look at the view from the window. "I'm getting tired of this everything's-okay-don't-mind-the-Reapers denial shit anyway."

Payton smoothed her hands together, gaze still focused on the ground of the Presidium, on the gardens and blindingly white walkways and the trickling water fountains scattered from one side to the other. Without looking away, she turned her chin, just enough to make it obvious she was speaking to him. "So you're not going back to Earth?"

"Screw that. I told you I was staying. You need me."

When she didn't reply, he amended his statement with a grudging, "Right. We need _each other_."

He was gone seconds after she told him she'd be back on the Normandy within the hour. Not long after that, the asari nurse stepped up behind her and told her that Kaidan was resting, likely unconscious from the sedatives, but he was ready for visitors if she wanted to see him.

_We need each other._

James' voice echoed around Payton's ears when she stepped into the recovery room. She needed everyone for this. Everyone she'd ever been close to, everyone who'd ever stepped up for her or gave her an out. She needed numbers and connections on her side. She needed friends at her side to keep her moving, to keep her on her toes and to tell her to put her head on straight if she tripped. She knew Kaidan would be that person.

"So get better, major," she found herself saying. She knew Kaidan couldn't hear her, but the words came out regardless. "I need you out there, alright? We all do."


	5. Chapter 5

Sleep came and went for most of the Normandy's crew. At times, those on the graveyard shift had company from half of those off the clock. They gathered in the Mess, pouring cups of coffee and occasionally swapping stories.

Most of them were too tired to be cheerful, having not gotten a full night's rest since they left Earth. These stories were often about what they lost. The grief was still fresh; the bitter reality of what was gone tagging along after every word. Some lost families. Others lost friends, pets, entire hometowns. Every once in a while, someone got news that their wife made it off of the planet or their brother was on the Citadel, waiting to see him the next time they docked. They shared parts of themselves that the Reapers broke off, parts that were either dead or transient. But they rarely slept. They gathered and consoled and drank to keep themselves awake, but they rarely slept.

Others, like Payton and James and Liara, hadn't slept in weeks. That deep, dreamless sleep that left you feeling rested eluded them more than anyone else. James was all but the mascot of those meetings late into the night cycle. Every once in a while, Liara left her room to take a mug for herself, listening to the stories but never sharing her own. She hadn't lost anything on Earth. Her worries began on Mars.

But Payton never went down to the Mess.

Splashing the water gathered in her hands over her face, she shut her eyes tight. The water was cool as it trickled down her throat only to be stopped when she grabbed for a towel to keep it from dampening the collar of her casuals. She wiped the skin dry.

Everything was so fresh. Vancouver was scorched onto the backs of her eyelids. The Reapers, the boy, the downed shuttle – everything was there, keeping her awake and hyper-aware. Then there was the chase once she was able to drift off into a light sleep. The burnt trees and the ash and Samson. She woke up when he caught fire, though the smell of burning flesh lingered in her nostrils long after.

Payton's brows furrowed as she looked towards her reflection.

She couldn't go down to the Mess because she couldn't let anyone see her like this. There was more than just exhaustion staring back at her.

When Anderson used to check up on her years ago, every once in a while he'd greet her with, "You look like shit, Shepard." It was a reminder. It told her she never saw all that was there. When she stood in front of the mirror to brush and fix her hair, she never caught anything. She never saw how tired she was, the purplish hue beneath her eyes or the strands of hair that didn't quite make it into the braid. He could see all of that where she couldn't. It forced her to take another look.

Payton was looking now with a critical eye, and she knew she couldn't face the entire crew like this. She needed to sleep or maybe she needed a stim, but she needed something. There was no denying that.

"Shepard, Liara is on her way up to your cabin. Should I allow entrance?"

"Yes, EDI. Thank you."

Instead of casting the damp towel away in a heap, Payton folded it carefully, each corner touching, and placed it on the corner of the sink. She left the bathroom without bothering to take another look at herself. Liara would have something to tell her, and maybe that would be enough to lift her spirits. Any news on the situation on Palaven would be good news at this point, save its total annihilation.

Pulling out the chair at her desk, she sat down just as the door to her cabin slid open. Liara strode in without a word and only came to a stop when she saw the commander in her chair, shoulders curved inward and her elbows pressed against the desk.

"Is... everything alright?" When Payton turned to look up at her, the asari's brows rose. "You look –"

Before Liara could finish, Payton chuckled. "That bad, hm?"

"Not bad," Liara insisted, taking a few steps forward to bridge the gap between them. She stopped at Payton's side, her hip pressing against the edge of the desk. "Tired. Like you've got the weight of the galaxy pinned on your eyelids instead of your shoulders."

"That's," she paused, "apt, actually."

Liara chose not to push the subject. "I keep getting conflicted reports from Menae. Communications with Palaven are distorted at best, but from what we've heard from Menae is mostly negative, I'm afraid. Word is that Primarch Fedorian is stubborn, even for a turian, and refuses to stay in one place when there's fighting on so much of the moon."

"What about Councilor Sparatus? Have you heard from him? Is he getting the news?"

"The councilor has a direct line to the primarch," Liara continued. "Thankfully. It'll be much easier to locate the primarch with his help."

Payton scrubbed her hands over her features and let out a quiet sigh. "So the primarch is traveling around Menae. While the Reapers are attacking it. He's the single most important man there, and he's risking his life for the sake of morale?"

"He's turian," Liara said, simply, as if that answered any of her questions.

"He's putting himself in direct danger for the sake of scouring the battlefield," she returned. There was a solidity to her voice that replaced the tired edge. "There's nothing there for him to know. He's a politician. This front is lost, and he's..." Giving a huff of a breath, Payton let her hands drop to the desk. "He should be bunkered somewhere until his extraction."

Liara pressed her lips together. She knew there was more Payton wanted to say, more questions that needed answers. And there were. "This is going to keep happening, isn't it? Every time we take steps towards helping the cause, something's going to throw us off. Make things harder."

When her friend nodded, Payton pushed her chair away from the desk. "We'll be at Menae soon." She rose to her feet and stood close, her chin tilted down and her eyes focused onto Liara's. "Be ready, Liara. I'm taking you and Vega down with me, and I want you to be prepared."

"I appreciate the warning, but this isn't the first time I've ever seen a Reaper, Shepard."

"I know. You saw some on Mars. And you saw Sovereign on the Citadel. But this is different. I just want you in the right headspace to go up against something like this."

Liara smiled a tired smile, and Payton gave her a pat on her shoulder. They both knew the other was strong enough, but no matter how sure they were, it was nice to be reminded that someone cared enough to check. "I'm going to try to find Vega, tell him to prepare."

Without missing a beat, EDI's voice filled the room. "Lieutenant Vega is currently in the shuttle bay, Shepard."

"Thank you, EDI."

"I'll let you do that, then," Liara said, stepping back to let Payton lead the way to the elevator.

The tired smile on Liara's face changed to a genuine one when she saw the commander pass her hand over the panel to feed her fish. They both lingered near the aquarium, watching as the food filtered down and the fish began swimming towards the flakes. "Hm... Thessian sunfish," she murmured, sounding impressed. "I've always thought they were some of the prettiest. Do they have names?"

Payton's cheeks pressed up into her eyes in a smile. "I love my fish, but... well, there's a lot of them, and I'm not a creative person."

"I don't know. I've seen some of the places and positions you get into in order to take a shot. I'd say you were one of the most creative people I know." Liara chuckled. "Deadly, but creative."

"Efficient," Payton insisted.

"Creative." Leaning in, Liara rested her chin on Payton's shoulder, her hand curled around her upper arm. "And to answer your question, this will keep happening, but you have more people on your side than working against you. That number will only end up tripling by the time the Crucible is finished."

Watching the fish dart this way or that, Payton's tiny grin dimmed, but she didn't move away. She understood what Primarch Fedorian was trying to accomplish by traveling the way he was. She understood why getting to the men and telling them what was happening was important. But she hated watching people put themselves in danger. She hated that feeling she got in her gut when something happened and she couldn't prevent it. She longed for some measure of control over the situation. She wanted to help because she wanted to keep them safe from the Reapers, and if they continued working against her, she couldn't do that.

As if she could tell the commander had fallen into the place where her head took over, Liara gave her arm a soft, if firm, tug. "Come on, you have to find the lieutenant. I'll be in the shuttle bay soon."

"Good point," Payton murmured before turning towards the door. "We should be there in a few hours, if Joker can wring the location of the primarch out of the councilor. Hopefully it won't take much persuasion. I don't think Jeff is up for dealing with any politicians at this point. Or... well, ever."

"He has a way with people." That was a lie if Liara had ever told one. "Maybe he'll frustrate the councilor into giving him a straight answer."

Payton chuckled, shaking her head and pressing the panel to close the elevator's door. Her fingers laced together as she stood in the very middle, looking towards Liara with a quirk of her lips. "The last thing we need right now is Jeff antagonizing the person whose help we need. Or anyone, for that matter."

The elevator slowed to a stop on the crew deck, and Liara parted with a smile and a quiet, "I'll make sure he doesn't start any wars before we get to Menae."

Nodding, Payton gave her a wave before the elevator door shut again.

Even after their conversation at Huerta, she was unsure about bringing James on this mission. Trust wasn't difficult to come by from the commander, but it was easy to lose. And risking your life to go through with something that may not even work put a bad taste in her mouth. The fact that he'd pulled such a stunt the first time they'd ever seen action together didn't impress her, either.

Still, there was no one on the Normandy who could fight like he could, and she knew they would run into trouble on Menae. So she pushed back her reservations and stepped out of the elevator.

When he heard the elevator open, Cortez looked up from his work on the shuttle. And when he recognized Shepard, his eyebrows shot up on his forehead. "Commander!" The surprise in his voice got the attention of two privates standing off to the side, and Payton glanced around the shuttle bay, suddenly very conscious of herself. Setting down the blow torch, Steve went over to her as quickly as he could manage. "I'm Steve Cortez, your new shuttle pilot."

"Nice to meet you, Steve." Payton smiled at his energy and held out a hand. He took it immediately; his handshake was firm. "I take it you're repairing the Kodiak after Vega's... mishap on Mars."

Steve sighed, heavily and pointedly in the direction of the lieutenant, who was doing pull ups by what she assumed he'd chosen as his station. "I almost had a heart attack when he pulled her back in. No one treats her like that and gets away with it. Mr. Vega's on a strict no-flying-the-shuttle punishment from here on out, Shepard. Don't worry about it."

"I don't wanna fly that dinky shuttle anymore anyway, Esteban! You're lucky I didn't bring it back in pieces!"

That got a laugh out of the pilot. "_You're_ lucky you didn't bring it back in pieces!"

Vega dropped down from the bar he'd been holding onto and dusted off his hands, giving a large enough shrug that they could see it clear across the shuttle bay. Payton smiled to herself before nodding towards Steve. "We need her in the air in a few hours, Cortez. Do you think you can manage?"

"Can I manage?" Steve seemed almost offended by her apparent lack of faith. "She was in flying shape when you brought her back. She'll be better than ready when we get to Menae."

"Good. I'm glad you're here, then," she told him. "Once we get off of Menae, we should talk."

Steve arched a brow. "Talk, commander?"

"I like to get to know my crew."

"In that case, I'll be here. Likely repairing the ship, but I'd be more than happy to answer any questions you might have."

Payton turned away at that, heading in the direction of James' station instead, giving the privates a nod as she passed. James still had his back towards her as she approached. The width of his shoulders blocked out her view of the table he stood in front of, though from the sounds, she could tell he was putting a weapon back together.

Stepping beneath the bar, she turned to face him, though he didn't do the same, her eyes falling to the table to watch him work. He was meticulous, thorough, and surprisingly organized, fitting the blade onto his shotgun without so much as a moment's hesitation before checking the position of the heat sink. "There something I can help you with? I figured I was gonna be groundside with you and Liara for this mission."

"You will be," Payton replied. "I came down to tell you we'll be heading out in a few hours."

"Good." Pulling his shotgun upwards, he checked the weight of it in his arms, the barrel of the gun balanced in his palm for all of a moment before he was satisfied. "Hopefully this time you won't send me back halfway through."

Payton's chin jutted out as she pressed her molars together, eyes narrowed at the remaining bits and pieces on the table. "Everyone I kept active on that mission was imperative. Liara knew the facility better than anyone else there."

"And the major?"

James didn't look up at her.

"Don't start with me, lieutenant. Both you and Major Alenko were vital to that mission. You were our means of extraction, and I have history with Major Alenko. I know how his combat skills. We work well together in the field."

"I'm not trying to start shit, Lola," he said, finally setting the gun down and looking at her. "It was just an observation. You'll never know how I work out there if you don't give me a chance."

Payton folded her arms under her chest. "I'm giving you a chance on Menae. I don't have the luxury of picking and choosing who comes with me this time."

Every time they spoke, things devolved into a staring match. Having his hazel eyes focused on her so intensely made her uncomfortable, but Payton refused to look away, refused to flinch. He was sizing her up. She was returning the favor. Her head tilted slowly to the side before she continued. "If you come out of this without causing irreparable damage to yourself or the primarch, I'll take that into consideration."

"You do that, then," James told her, finally looking away and back towards his work. "But if you're looking for some boy scout marine, you're barking up the wrong tree."

A moment passed and then two before Payton uttered a solid, "Noted," and turned away from him.

She wasn't looking for a boy scout. She was looking for a soldier, for someone with their head on straight, or at the very least, someone who could twist their head on right when it counted. She didn't know if James was that marine. She didn't know if expecting that out of him at a juncture like this was even fair.

But unreasonable expectations were pressing in on the Normandy's crew at every turn.

And a war like this was never fair.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I just want to thank those who've reviewed, favorited, and put alerts on this fic again! Even if I haven't been able to reply directly to a lot of them yet, I wanted you to know that I truly appreciate the time you're taking to read this story!


	6. Chapter 6

If she'd known only an hour after arriving on Menae she'd be hugging cover next to Garrus while Harvesters dropped husks from the sky, Payton might have rushed through those talks with General Corinthus. She might have pressed for Liara to repair the communications tower more quickly. She might have taken the pistol from her hip to the husks around said tower instead of using her rifle.

But, as it was, Garrus surprised her by showing up when she was certain he'd been on Palaven, bright blue Incisor as well as his tell-tale swagger in tow.

"So who's the kid?" he asked her, shifting in his crouch to survey the stretch of rock in front of them. James was stuck right in the fray, a fact that made both of them uncomfortable, though he seemed to be enjoying himself. The grunts and shouts his hardsuit unit filtered her way were wrapped around what sounded like amusement. "Stray?"

Hefting her rifle upwards, Payton rested the gun on the stretch of rock they crouched behind. "Alliance marine," she replied, her brow furrowing as she lined up a shot and pulled the trigger. A human husk a yard away from James exploded at the shoulder, falling to its knees and then skidding to a stop. She knew he could hear her if he focused hard enough over the gunshots rattling from both sides, though even that didn't make her hold her tongue. "He's with us now, part of the crew."

"Nice." Garrus twisted until his back was pressed against their cover when he heard a familiar, shuddering moan behind them. His omni-tool's interface came to life over his forearm; all it took was a few strokes of his fingers to send out an overload to the creature's implants, effectively stopping it in its tracks. Reaching between them to the pistol Payton dropped at her side, he shot the husk in the chest twice before setting it between them again. "I wasn't aware they bred half-krogan. It just doesn't seem possible."

Even as she squinted down the sights of her rifle, Payton smiled to herself. "Not half-krogan," she told him, pulling her face away from the gun and combing over what they were being confronted with. There were husks, the huge batarian husks, not far off, advancing towards James, but she wasn't positive she could take the shot. They were too far away, and she couldn't account for the differences in Menae's atmosphere from what she was accustomed to fighting through. "All marine. He's not the exception to the rule."

The words were barely out of her mouth when she heard a boisterous, "You know, it's not polite to talk about someone behind their back, Lola!" in her ear. James' shout was loud enough for Garrus to hear.

"Lola, huh?" he asked with a flare of his mandibles.

They both watched as the husk approaching James tripped over the ribbons of flesh and implants of another. Without missing a beat, he held out his shotgun and shot it between its shoulder blades. The husk stopped moving immediately.

Payton's shoulder raised in a shrug as she pulled herself up out of a crouch. "A nickname." She looked back at him only to be met with the textbook definition of a turian poker face. "What?"

"You never let _me_ give you a nickname."

"You tried once," she reminded him. "Everything you suggested was either unprofessional or offensive."

Picking up her pistol, he handed it over. "They weren't that bad."

"They were that bad." Once the pistol was holstered, Payton started moving closer to the action. The cannibals were even closer now, their stumbling strides hindered by the unfamiliar terrain, but not enough to stop them in their tracks. Jumping up into one of the open-air trailers, she began looking around, methodically picking through boxes and looking in drawers to no avail. "Check the one across the way for heat sinks. This one's bone dry."

Garrus nodded and was on the move without a word, and Payton kicked a crate over until it came to a stop in front of the low panel banding around the trailer. She went down to her knees, straddling the weapon case and resting her rifle on the wall to allow for a more accurate shot.

"Four cannibals on your left, lieutenant," Payton said, chin tilted down so her voice would filter even more clearly through her comm unit. "Two cannibals and three humanoid husks on your six. I'll cover those. Get into cover. Your shields can only take so much damage from these things, and you'll be taking fire in a minute."

Surprisingly enough, James listened to her, vaulting up onto a higher level of terrain to tuck up against the nearest rock formation.

The cannibals still lumbered towards his previous position, not stopping for a moment to look towards the figure behind the rocks. Their attention was focused solely on the dead husks strewn over the ground, at the gore they sought to devour to mend whatever hurts they'd gotten from the drop.

Payton could see Garrus lining up a shot on the group of cannibals without so much as taking her eye off of the group approaching the trailer he was crouched in. He was waiting for her, waiting for the first shot to be taken, and she was waiting for the husks to get closer. Wetting her lips, she peered down the scope of her rifle, not a single muscle twitching in her entire body as the seconds ticked by and each clumsy, thoughtless step brought them nearer to where she wanted them to be.

"Commander..."

James' voice was little more than an impatient whisper.

"Garrus will cover you. When I take the shot, go on the offensive, but remember to stay in cover. Those guns are nasty if your shields go."

A husk moaned that eerie death rattle of a moan as it approached Garrus, and Payton's index stroked the curve of the rifle's trigger. No sooner had the thing's hand touched the mobile structure in hopes to climb up and grab for him did that same finger clench.

The husk's neck exploded in a spray of old flesh and a mess of synthetics, and it dropped down into the dirt. To her right, she heard James' shotgun and the sick squelch of impact into the meat that ran along the cannibal's shoulder. Garrus gunned down another one of the cannibals long enough for James to deliver the kill shot.

"He's a—" Payton heard as she inserted another heat sink from the belt around her waist. James grunted, released a heavy breath, and then took another shot. One of the cannibals went down to its knees, one leg entirely useless. "He's good." As if on cue, Garrus took down the same cannibal as it struggled to get to its feet again. "But don't tell him I said that."

Lining up another shot, Payton drew in a breath and buried a bolt right into the skull of one of the cannibals. "He knows," she told him, pulling away from the ledge to remove her Mantis' heat sink and shove in another one.

Garrus was well-aware of how good he was, as he was more than willing to prove time and again. Shoving one of the human husks midway up the wall off of the trailer and into the dust, he unloaded three shots into its chest, turning back to covering James without so much as a moment to pull himself back together.

The lieutenant was a different kind of brash, cocky instead of confident, and that showed in his next move.

She heard a curse in her ear, but she was too focused on taking down the second cannibal to turn towards him. But she heard his shotgun, heard the sound of armor hitting flesh and the grunt of recoil. Even over the comm unit, she could hear the cannibal's angry cry, though it was silenced soon after when James unloaded the clip's remaining two bolts into the thing's torso.

But this celebration was short lived. Even as Payton and Garrus systematically took down the final three husks, yet another problem arose.

She never expected getting to Victus would be an easy task. She never thought there wouldn't be Reaper-farmed enemies blocking each way. But she hadn't expected what the harvester dropped down on top of them.

Neither had James, judging from his reaction. An angry shout of, "What the fuck is _that_?" rang out, loud enough for her to pick it up through not only her comm unit but by her ears alone. He didn't sound surprised or afraid. He sounded pissed off and exasperated.

"Switch to incendiary ammo, James." Payton's habitually quiet voice was gone, replaced by a militant one befitting a commander. "Hit it with everything you have. Grenades, if you're equipped."

James' voice was strained, but his reply lacked none of his usual teasing disposition. "Of course I brought the grenades."

Garrus was already firing on the thing, but whatever damage his quick-firing rifle could do didn't draw nearly as much as the Mantis' single, solitary shot. Payton's teeth ground as she saw the brute thrash its head in her direction.

And then it charged.

Jumping up from the weapon crate in time, Payton was thrown back against the trailer's shelves, body instinctively curving inwards to protect the back of her head and holding tightly onto her gun. The light metal banding around the trailer crumpled in on itself, and the husk's half-synthetic limbs scraped against it until it gave off sparks and screamed.

She knew there wasn't enough time to take a shot and reload her rifle. Instead, Payton activated her cloak and ran, vaulting over the side of the trailer to stick a landing in the dust.

"Commander!"

Payton's chest shuddered as she pressed her shoulders against the trailer for just long enough to catch her breath.

"Comman - shit! Shepard, where the hell are you?"

"Hit it with a frag, lieutenant. Distract it." Leaning around the trailer, she looked to the brute, watching as its shorter arm tore into the metal like it was aluminum. She pulled herself back into cover, body bent to conceal herself despite the fact that her cloak was still raised. "Clear?"

Only a moment passed before she heard impact, felt the explosion and saw shards from the grenade spread outwards. The entire trailer heaved as the brute tore itself away and towards James. She was forgotten where she stood, and that was enough. It was enough to prompt her to take a breath and step out of cover, cloak only fizzling out of existence when she took a shot. The brute was only yards away from James when the bolt dug into the flesh of it's waist, tearing through the revealed muscle without trouble.

James threw himself backwards when the thing lashed out with its larger arm, barely missing him as he dove into cover. Instead of pressing forward, it turned around with a roar that sounded equal parts angry and pained, though she knew pain never stopped these things. Pain never stopped any husk, humanoid or batarian or turian. They kept going.

"Garrus! Concentrate fire!"

Bolts from Incisor and shotgun alike pelted the brute as it charged towards her. James lobbed another grenade at it, slowing its charge momentarily, just long enough for her to cloak and roll away from its path. She dove around it, skidding over the rocks and through the dust, before clambering to her feet and taking off in James' direction.

The brute's attention then turned to Garrus. He was the closest target, and he was alone now, standing in the relatively untouched trailer with nothing more than his two rifles. Casting his Incisor aside, he pulled his assault rifle off of his back and unloaded on the brute, backing up against the shelves until his armor hit them and jostled him enough to ruin his concentration. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed for his second gun again and jumped off of the side of the trailer only seconds before impact, feet scuffling over the ground as he rushed to stand.

Payton inserted the last heat sink from her belt and hefted up her rifle, squinting down the scope as the brute whirled around. Garrus ran towards them, swerving to the side to avoid standing in her way, and jumped up onto the raised ground.

The three stood side by side, and with their fire focused, they took down the stumbling brute during its final, blundering charge.

Payton's breath latched in her throat as she struggled to steady it, eyes closed behind the flaps of her Delumcore overlay. James, however, seemed to be acclimatizing to his surroundings rather well.

"Those things," he began, shaking his head. "They're stupid as they are big." When Garrus gave a quiet rumble of amusement, James lifted up a hand, a pointed index finger quieting the turian. "Don't say anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it, lieutenant." Garrus' mandibles flared as he handed a few heat sinks over to Payton. "Thought that thing had you for a second there."

Payton shook her head, inserting one of the heat sinks into her rifle before slipping the remaining few into her belt. "Almost," she admitted with a grimace. "We have to stay on our toes from here on out. We're almost done here on Menae, but that isn't the last one of those we'll see. The armor's impressive, so—" Measuring orders on her tongue, she looked between Garrus and James. "So hit it in whatever uncovered flesh you can see. Fire and grenades should work, too. Just be _careful_."

Garrus nodded, and James followed suit.

"You said Victus was right up here, Garrus, didn't you?"

The three turned in the direction they'd been running, and Garrus nodded a second time. "The camp is right through there. I don't expect him to come easily, though."

Payton began walking towards the split between the rock formations. "Of course not," she murmured to herself, though James heard it well enough through their attached units, earning a chuckle from the LT. "No one ever does. Not even you, Vega, so I wouldn't laugh."

The fight they found at the camp was a hectic one. Though the firepower was stronger between Shepard's party and the turians mounted on the trailers and ducked behind cover, the waves the harvesters dropped down were thicker, more intense. Only a few times was Payton able to shoot down any of the enemy forces, as they were often dead before she could pull the trigger. James was content with running into the thick of it, struggling to work against one of the largest turian soldiers he'd ever seen in order to wrench kills away from him. And Garrus did what he did best, laying ground fire and taunting the flailing human husks as they stumbled around, unable to latch onto a single target with so many around it.

Once again, a brute was dropped right down in the middle of camp. The firepower behind the turian forces didn't help as much this time, lending to confusion rather than destruction as the brute charged, smashed, and charged again.

The thing grabbed the turian soldier right away from a human husk, and James felt a hand tugging him back before he could attempt to charge at it. He whipped his head around to see right through the person standing at his back, the area behind the form distorted in a shape similar to that of the commander.

Casualties were much higher this time. Seeing the brute grab such a massive man and pound him into the ground until he was little more than shards of plates and pulpy, blue mess sent a chill into her gut and sobered the lieutenant enough to send him into cover.

They took the brute down together, and finally, when Payton's heat sinks were spent a second time, the last enemy wave was nothing but heaps of sizzling implants and blood scattered across the ground.

She barely had time to catch her breath when a box was shoved into her arms. The turian who handed it over was taller than her by only a few inches, clad in black armor lit with red, and brought with him a presence that told her he was the man she was looking for. This assumption was backed by Garrus, who jogged up to her side in order to make introductions.

"General Vi –"

"General Victus," the turian interrupted, casting a short look in Garrus' direction before turning his attention back to Payton. He nodded towards the box as she opened it, removing the necessary heat sinks to restock the belt banded around her waist. "You really ought to carry more of those things."

Payton handed the lockbox over to James before turning towards the general. "Commander Shepard," she said, extending a hand in greeting. He returned the gesture, grip tight even through her armored gloves. "It's good to see you're alive, general."

"It'll take more than a few of these things to kill me, Shepard." The statement wasn't overconfidence. It wasn't cocky. It was measured and solid, and she believed it. "That said, I appreciate the help. So do my men. We all know who you are; Garrus made sure of that. I'm glad they got to see you in action."

At the off-handed comment, Garrus' mandibles flared. "I didn't say _much_."

Victus continued, avoiding the trap set by Vakarian in order to focus on the matter at hand. "Though I am wondering what you're doing here instead of extracting Primarch Fedorian."

"The primarch is dead," Payton said, hand clasped around her wist behind her back. "His shuttle was shot down two hours ago while trying to leave the moon. I'm here to get you off the moon myself, so that doesn't happen again."

"And what does Fedorian's death have to do with me?"

Once again, Garrus stepped in. "You're the new primarch."

"You're needed to represent the turians in a summit aboard the Normandy," she explained, watching Victus' face as he glanced around the camp. "We need to figure out a way to destroy the Reapers, and the only way to find it is by coordinating our forces. All of them. And I need your help."

Her attention shifted towards Palaven after watching the general turn his face towards the burning planet. The view was a familiar one, seen from space after the Normandy escaped Earth's atmosphere, though this didn't hurt her any less. Seeing an entire planet covered in shades of red and orange, yellow and black - it put a fear inside of her that solidified in the pit of her stomach.

"I hate politics." Victus' voice was barely more than a frustrated rumble. "They're always pulling me away from where I should be. I don't belong in some room with a bunch of other politicians. I should be out here with my men, laying waste to these husks for my brothers and sisters back on Palaven."

"It's difficult," Payton said, though her throat was dry. "But necessary. You know that."

When the general - the primarch - turned back to her, he gave a derisive snort through his nose and shook his head. "Doesn't make pulling out of a hot zone feel any less wrong."

"Look at Palaven, general." Victus' brow ridge furrowed as she spoke, mouth working as if he was a hair's breadth away from saying something. But she continued, the voice of a commander flowing right out of her as if she wasn't afraid, as if she didn't see Palaven burning out of the corner of her eye and only think of Earth. "If we don't stop the Reapers, every homeworld, every colony, every space station we have will look like that. We need to help each other."

"I know," Victus said, a mere growl from between clenched teeth. "Give me a moment to say goodbye to my men."

When the general turned away, Payton looked to Garrus. He was still standing at her side, though his attention was elsewhere, chin tilted up just enough to look back at his homeworld, at the bright orange center of where his home used to be. "This is tough, Shepard," he said quietly. "Seeing Palaven like this, knowing it could've been avoided."

"I don't think it was unavoidable, Garrus." Instead of looking at the planet again, Payton busied herself with connecting to the Normandy. "They were never going to listen to me."

"Well, hopefully they're listening now."

Payton pulled her bottom lip into her mouth as her omni-tool illuminated over her forearm. Sending a message to the Normandy for pickup took a moment, and once it went through and the interface dissipated, she looked up to see Garrus staring at her expectantly.

"Yeah," she said. "I think they are."


	7. Chapter 7

Each step forward was met with enough force to push Payton back farther than before. With Primarch Victus on the Normandy, it seemed as if the summit was within arm's reach.

Seemed.

As soon as she stepped onto the ship, Specialist Traynor swept Payton away with word that the asari councilor wanted to speak to her. The conversation was civil on Tevos' side of things, though there was a tension spreading through the commander that lent a tightness to her voice and caused her to speak with her only briefly.

They wouldn't be joining the summit. There were more pressing concerns than the safety of the galaxy, in her opinion, one of which was the safety of the asari.

Nothing Payton could say would change her mind, so instead of arguing, she left the war room without a word to the primarch. The matter of Palaven had been discussed during the shuttle ride. Victus wanted the krogan involved. He needed the krogan involved in order to salvage what was left of the turian homeworld. In one fell swoop, the general turned politician changed everything, and he had every right and power to do so.

Councilor Tevos mentioned the state of the dalatrass in passing. The potential introduction of the krogan into the summit left her incensed, and the asari had only barely been able to calm her enough to convince her to maintain her plans to meet with them.

Each politician had far too much power in this situation. If any one of them removed their bid to help her construct the Crucible and take back Earth, she wouldn't have the resources to go through with it. And if she didn't have the resources, they would never be victorious. They wouldn't even have a chance.

When Payton passed near Samantha's station a second time, she turned towards her, opening her mouth to say something only to shut it again at the sight of the commander.

"Commander, is..." Samantha's brow furrowed. "Everything _is_ alright, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't say that," Payton replied, "but I'm fine, if that's what you're wondering about. You looked surprised to see me."

Samantha shifted on her feet, wringing her hands even as the wrinkle in her brow smoothed away. "I figured it was you leaving the war room. But it looks like something's gone wrong. Bad news, I take it?"

"About the same as we expected, I guess. The dalatrass isn't happy with the turnout, and the asari are playing the lone wolf instead of helping us and everyone else along." Payton's shoulders drifted upwards and fell in a shrug. "I never imagined this would be easy."

"Not easy, but perhaps less problematic right out of the gate," Samantha said, a tiny humorless smile curling at the corner of her mouth. When she finally let her hands fall to her sides, she nodded to herself. "Right. I have a list here of things that need your approval. If you don't want to look at them now, I can bring them up to your cabin later on. Also, Adams wants to speak to you on the engineering deck."

Payton only hesitated a moment before telling her to bring the datapad up later, turning and disappearing into the elevator.

The three days spent between the Sol system, the Citadel, and Palaven hadn't offered Payton enough time to do her work and visit with the entire crew. She'd meant to go down and see how Adams was faring with the new ship after leaving the Citadel, but she hadn't been able to spare time enough to do so. She rarely had enough hours to split between sleep and the work she was out there to do. Her extra time was spent eating and talking to Liara, sometimes visiting Joker in the cockpit.

Nothing had changed in Engineering besides a lack of familiar faces. Grunt's old room was locked. The hidey hole where Jack slept was empty now save for boxes. And Zaeed's quarters were inhabited by a reporter. The only familiar thing on the Engineering deck was Adams, who looked up from the console he was working at with a grin once it'd registered that he had a visitor.

"Commander!" His warm greeting managed to put a smile on her face even before she rounded the corner to stand in front of him. "It's good to see you made it off of that moon in one piece."

Payton chuckled. "I didn't have any other choice."

"Damned if I don't know how that is," he said with a similar, low-pitched laugh. "I could've said the same thing about rejoining your crew."

"I'm glad you agreed." Payton folded her arms under her chest, leaning carefully against the edge of the console. "It's good to have someone I know down here. Speaking of, what do you think of the new ship? Are you two getting along well?"

Adams pursed his lips and nodded, glancing around at his surroundings. "It's impressive. Say what you will about Cerberus, but they know ships. Even though the Alliance retrofit leaves something to be desired. Still, she wasn't ready when the Reapers showed up, was she? So it makes sense."

"Specialist Traynor said you wanted to talk to me?" Pushing away from the console, Payton took a few steps in the direction of the drive core, chin tilted upwards to get a better look at it. It felt like ages since she'd been down here. She hadn't bothered going this far down on the Normandy after they got back from the Omega-4 Relay. Without looking back towards him, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Do you need anything?"

"Two things, actually," he replied, turning away from his work to move over to where she was standing. His hands dug deep into his pockets. "I was hoping you'd know someone who might be able to give me a hand down here. It's a lot of work for one guy."

Payton looked in his direction, face turned just enough to catch a glimpse of his profile. "I know someone," she told him. "I don't know how soon I'll be able to get in touch with him, but I do know someone."

"That's all I'm asking. I was reading through a few files to get a hang of things, and they were all signed with the same two names. Donnelly and Daniels. One of those your guy?"

"Donnelly," she told him. "We lost Daniels behind the Relay."

Adams gave a quiet, "ah," of acknowledgement, though he didn't seem to have anything else to say on the matter. Maybe he hadn't accounted for losses. Maybe he'd forgotten that these things happened to her, same as any other CO. "Right. The second thing..."

"The second thing."

He chuckled in an attempt to ease the sudden spike of awkwardness, reaching up out of his pocket to palm over the back of his neck. "I keep hearing stuff down here, and I was wondering if you could take a look at it? The drive core's even quieter than the one in the old Normandy. You don't miss anything."

"Where's it coming from?" she asked. Even Tali never mentioned hearing things down in the belly of the ship, and she was more attuned to picking these things up than most people. "Do you have any idea what it might be?"

"Not a clue. That's why I asked you if you could see about finding whatever it is. Sounds kinda... squeaky."

Payton's brow arched. "Squeaky."

"Yeah, squeaky. Maybe something's loose. A piece of machinery or something."

Odder things had happened on the Normandy SR-2, so Payton didn't ask anymore questions. She promised Adams that she'd try to get in touch with Kenneth Donnelly and left to see what this squeaky bit of machinery might have been.

She was s halfway to the elevator when she heard the door slide open. Looking up from the grating beneath her feet, she saw James step out of it, eyes already glued to the ground. "Lieutenant?" Her voice made him jerk his head up, and his mouth fell open to give his explanation. She cut him off. "Are you busy?"

"Uh, not really," James said, looking up the hallway one way and then down the other. "I was lookin' around for Adams. The shuttle bay doesn't have anything squeaky going for it. Dunno what he's hearing."

"Squeaky." Payton sighed. "Right. I was looking for it, too."

James laughed at that. "Adams hooked Commander Shepard into looking for a squeaky thing that's keeping him up at night. Damn."

"You'd be surprised by the things I've done for my crew," she said plainly. Pointing an index over her shoulder towards the door leading back into Engineering, Payton shrugged. "Have you looked beneath the deck? It might be down there."

"Didn't think of that." His admission came right as he passed her, long strides putting a distance between them that she quickly made up for. "So how's everything? Is the summit still happening?"

Payton followed him down the stairs, footfalls heavy and her braid bouncing between her shoulder blades. "Yes and no," she told him. "Yes, it's happening. No, it's not happening as soon or exactly as we expecting it would be. The asari ducked out, and the salarian dalatrass isn't happy."

The two of them stepped out onto the deck. Whatever dim lighting remained down there washed the room in a red glow and caused shadows to bloom in every corner and crevice between the stacks of boxes stored there. If there was something wrong, they would have a difficult time trying to find it by sight alone.

James stood in the very center of the room, hands on his hips as he looked around. "She's in a position of power over a species with no sex drive. There isn't anything for her to be happy _about_."

Rolling her eyes, Payton moved over to a stack of crates and moved them out of the way. As part of her expected, there was nothing behind them. "She's threatening to step out of the summit because Victus wants to include the krogan," she explained. "Not because she isn't getting laid."

"Just saying. I'd be pretty pissed if I wasn't getting any, either." He held up his hands when he saw Payton narrow her eyes at him over her shoulder. "I get it. I get it. It was a joke."

She turned back towards the crates, and his face creased in a smile when he heard her chuckle.

"I know it was a joke," she said. "I do have a sense of humor, you know."

"Actually, I don't. Must've missed it."

He laughed again at the almost petulant huff that left the commander. "I'm glad Victus wants to bring the krogan into this. We need ground troops if we're gonna take back Earth, and the krogan know how to fight. They've got firepower, too, last I heard. Lots of it."

"Yeah, I remember Garrus mentioning something along those lines the last time we were on Tuchanka," Payton murmured as she slid between two stacks and leaned against the wall, looking up through whatever nooks or crannies she could see. "If we want to win this war, we need everyone. Having the krogan on our side doesn't mean a necessary victory. We need the krogan, the turians, the salarians. Everyone."

"We've got a better chance if we've got the krogan, though." James' brow furrowed. "Drop a few salarians down on Earth, and we don't have shit."

Payton twisted back towards him as she stepped out from between the crates. "I'm guessing you've never seen a salarian in action. I have. They're a lot more dangerous than you'd think. A friend of mine, Mordin, is responsible for the omni-tool upgrade that let me catch that brute on fire back on Menae. He programmed it himself. And used it himself. Quite happily, I might add."

"Damn," James muttered. He sounded impressed, lips pursed and brows arched in surprise.

"Exactly." Pausing, Payton took another look around the room. "So are you going to help me look for whatever it is or just stand around? It has to be down here."

James conceded, and half an hour later, he was on his hands and knees, bent down to look beneath Jack's old bed. Payton crouched near one of the sets of stairs, omni-tool focusing a beam of light beneath them. They hadn't had any luck, though neither of them was surprised. The engineering deck was largely uninhabited. The noise could have come from anywhere.

Every once in a while, one of them heard something, but the sound never came from the same place twice, which lodged a wrench into things. Finding this elusive squeaky noise threw them for a loop. However, they were too invested in figuring out what it was that was taunting them at every turn to just give up.

At least, that was until James encountered the noise in the very corner of the room.

"Hey, Shepard," he called out, knees digging into the grating beneath him, body blocking the dark corner. "I can't see for shit over here. Bring that light over?"

Pulling herself up out of a crouch, Payton went over to him. "Are you sure? You thought you had it a few minutes ago."

But when she lifted her arm and let the omni-tool's light shine into the corner, she saw James was right. He had cornered the location of the noise. They both stared at the origin of the squeaky noise. And the furry little noisemaker stared right back at them, nose twitching.

"It's a hamster."

"No, it's _my_ hamster."

"Wait," James said, twisting his head up to look at her. "You have a hamster? I didn't know you had a hamster."

Payton blinked down at him. "Joker took care of him. I forgot I had one."

James' brows furrowed. "You're telling me you remember to feed your fish every time you go into your cabin, but you forgot you _had_ a hamster?"

"Oh, come on! The fish are right there when you go into the room. The hamster's cage is in the corner." When she saw the offended look on James' face, she quickly amended her previous statement. "He's barely my hamster. He's Joker's hamster."

Shaking his head, James turned his attention back to the furry little creature. He reached forward, scooping it up carefully and holding it in his cupped palms. "Screw that. He's mine now."

Payton watched as James hoisted himself to his feet, still holding onto the hamster, and she folded her arms over her chest as he turned around. "How are you going to explain this to Joker?" she asked, head tilted to the side.

"'Your CO almost killed your hamster out of neglect, so I'm taking care of him instead. If you want joint-custody, it's no skin off my back.'"

At the sight of the hamster nestled right up against the curve of James' fingers, Payton's face softened a little. The change was noticeable enough for him to pinpoint the shift, and he extended his hands for her to reach up to scratch at the top of the hamster's head.

"It's not Joker's hamster, is it?"

"No," Payton said, her voice much quieter. "Everything's just so... disorganized."

James gave a breath of a laugh. "Yeah, I can tell. Look, I'm not letting this little guy go back up with you. I'll keep an eye on him. You've got your fish, and if things calm down and stop being so fucking crazy, you can have the hamster back."

Instead of a struggle, he got a smile in return, just wide enough to press her cheeks up into her eyes and bare a row of teeth.

"Thank you," Payton finally admitted, though it sounded like she had more trouble with the thanks than anything else. He wagered she had issues with that on a daily basis, but that didn't keep him from replying with a simple, "you're welcome."

His words were broken up when even the dismal lighting at the bottom of the engineering deck phased out and back in.

Both Payton and James looked upwards and around the room.

"The hell was that?"

"Joker?" Whatever softer tone her voice had taken on was gone when she opened her mouth again, replaced with the sharp commanding tone he was more familiar with. "Is everything alright up there?"

There was a long moment before the pilot's voice filtered in over the ship's comm system.

"Uh... no, not really. EDI just went offline."

Payton glanced towards James, more out of confusion than an attempt to find an answer to whatever questions cropped up in her head. She knew he didn't have them; he looked just as stunned. "Is that a thing she does?"

"No," she said, stepping backwards twice before turning and hurrying towards the stairs. "She's never done that before."


	8. Chapter 8

"So what you're telling me is... the Normandy's _AI_ shut itself down and... nearly caught itself on fire, all in hopes of taking control of... the body of the robot that tried to kill me?"

Payton's brow furrowed, but she nodded, her lips pursed. "That's the gist of it, really."

Across from her, Kaidan chuckled, though the sudden movement pulled a quiet, "_ow_," out of him. He looked bad, though Payton would never point that out to him. She'd never seen him so bruised and bandaged before, even when they shared an emergency taxi shuttle after nearly being crushed by Sovereign. Then again, she had the worst of it that time.

When he settled back down, head resting against his pillow, his eyes were still smiling. "I have to say, between being chased out of systems by Reapers and an AI running around on your ship... It makes me miss the old days."

"I never thought I'd say this, but they _were_ simpler times."

"Yeah," Kaidan said quietly, "Yeah, they were. Though none of us thought so back then."

Payton rubbed her palms over her knees, sights shifting from Kaidan to the view from his suite. Huerta Memorial was in the perfect location for healing. The vista boasted a particularly beautiful stretch of the Presidium filled with bodies of still water and gardens and clean white metal. Everything about it seemed so calm. She could understand why James didn't want any of it the last time he was there.

Reaching up to rub the back of her neck, she shut her eyes. It was good to see Kaidan conscious, talking, moving around, if only a little. But everything just kept coming around and reminding her that she was wasting time. Their idle chatting could only distract her for so long. There was so much resting on her going out there and facilitating peace between so many different species. With so much to do, sitting there and shooting the breeze with Kaidan, no matter how glad she was to see he was okay, felt wrong.

His voice was still quiet, but it was enough to pull her back into the conversation. "Where are you?"

"Huh?"

When Payton looked up at him, she did so just in time to see him smile. "You're not here, that's for damn sure. Not your head, at least. What's going on?"

"I have to be at a summit in a few days, once I get word that Wrex and the dalatrass have arrived at the location," she told him. There was no reason to keep quiet around Kaidan. Out of his armor, he wasn't Major Kaidan Alenko; he was Kaidan, and she counted him as one of her closest friends, even after the mess on Horizon ages ago. "The summit... We're trying to get salarian and turian troops for the fight, but the turian primarch isn't budging until he knows Palaven is being looked after."

"Which it would be if there were krogan soldiers on the ground," Kaidan finished. Of course he understood. After sitting in the figurative co-pilot seat during the race to defeat Saren, he knew how quickly things stacked up against her. He knew there would be complications, complications that would cripple most leaders. When she nodded, Kaidan grimaced. "Damn, Shepard. You've got your work cut out for you."

The smile that Payton let slip was a small one. "Yeah. Yeah, I do." No sooner had the smile shown up did it fade away, replaced by an even smaller frown and the creased expression of someone who didn't quite understand something. She wasn't even looking at him any more. She was looking past him, eyes unfocused, like she was searching. "And that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface."

Kaidan nodded to himself, wincing when the movement tugged at his injuries. He hated seeing her like that, so closed off and not willing to speak about anything but surface truths, but he didn't expect her to go into detail with him. Not about the things that mattered.

"I'm not going to tell you to relax," he said. "Because that'd just be me coming off as a condescending ass, and that's not what you need right now."

His brows knitted when Payton looked to him. The skin around her eyes was tight, lips pressed together as she listened. "You need people to get off of your case, but no one else is going to do it. And you deserve an apology. For how I acted on Mars. For Horizon, for me not getting my head out of my ass and joining up and helping you."

"I got it, Kaidan. You didn't want to work with Cerberus."

"Stop. Just stop, Shepard. Don't try to rationalize anything. Let me talk." When she didn't continue, he pulled himself a little higher on his hospital bed. "You're right. I didn't want to work with Cerberus, but... god, when I heard you were alive? I didn't believe it at first, but I knew I'd have given anything to be part of your crew again. Seeing you shook me up. Almost getting abducted by the Collectors shook me up. But I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that."

He remembered as clear as anything how angry he had been. There weren't words for how frustrated he was, how bitter and angry he remained after she left Horizon in the dust. And for months, that bitterness steeped inside of him. It grew and grew. Every time he heard about her relationship with Cerberus, it was like a knife in the gut, and it just seemed to prove that his anger was worth it.

But then the Reapers attacked Earth, and he'd seen Vancouver burning. He had memories there, some of which he saw turned to ash, and once he was given the time to mull over his own thoughts, he realized something. He had memories with Shepard, too. Good ones, of sitting up and talking with Ashley and Garrus, of the massages she'd give his shoulders when he was hit with a migraine, of the times when things looked so bleak they had to laugh to keep from going insane. Those memories were still there, buried, untouched by whatever bile he'd accumulated over the months after seeing her on Horizon. He knew he didn't have the time or will enough to ignore that and stay angry with her.

Kaidan gave a sigh, fingers smoothing over the sheet gathered around his stomach. "I just want you to know that this... whatever it was between us, it's over. I don't have the strength to stay upset with you over something that doesn't even matter anymore. You've got too much on your plate, and... well, seeing your life flash before your eyes and having the story change like it did for me isn't how I want to go out."

"I understand," Payton murmured, her own hands twisting around themselves with nothing else to grab onto.

"Do you?"

She looked to him, her brows pinched upwards. "What do you mean?"

"Do you get it? What I'm saying." Kaidan sighed again, this time heavier than the last. He could feel a blooming pain up his spine from his implant. "Don't worry about me, Payton. Strike me off that mental list that keeps you in check. I'm okay. Just... take that and relax."

She did understand. From the beginning of the conversation, she'd understood what he sought to achieve by talking to her about this. He wanted to relieve her of some of the weight on her shoulders. He wanted to take care of her as best he could from that hospital bed, and all he could manage was to show her he'd forgiven her.

"Of course I understand," she said. "And I appreciate it. I do. There's just... so much happening."

"And it's not nearly enough to make anything easier. I know."

He stared at her for a long moment before he turned his face to look out of the window, exhaling slowly in an attempt to ease the sudden tightness in his chest. "Well, it was worth trying, right?"

When she heard him chuckle, even she could tell there was no humor in the sound. "It's not your fault, Kaidan." Standing up from the chair beside his bed, Payton moved over to the window, but she didn't turn around to look at him. She didn't intentionally stand in his line of sight. She simply stared out of the glass, hands clasped in front of her. "My head's everywhere. I'm being pulled in a dozen different directions at once. Nothing's going to change that."

"Yeah, I know how that –" Kaidan stopped short and sunk back against the pillow, shutting his eyes. A wrinkle formed in his forehead, and he pulled the sheet up higher around himself. "That makes sense. It's a hell of an important fight."

Payton's eyes narrowed slightly as she stared down at the Presidium. "You're right. It is. I guess a few sleepless nights are par for the course when the entire galaxy is in danger."

"Mhm."

Taking a deep breath, she turned around and looked at him. She was still wringing out her hands, and if his eyes were open, he'd see she wore a concerned expression to match. She wasn't the most empathetic person in the world, but there was no questioning the woman's ability to tap into a moment. "I'll go, then. You should probably rest."

One of Kaidan's eyes opened, and the corner of his mouth rose and fell. No one could have seen it and be able to tell if it was genuine or a tiny smile meant to pacify. "It was good seeing you, Shepard."

She was at the foot of his bed when she stopped, hand lingering over the metal and index tapping at it as she chewed over her own goodbye. "Thank you," she said. "For saying what you did. For trying to help. It's - it's a lot more than most people have done for me so far. So... right. Thank you. I'll visit again soon."

While Kaidan didn't reply, he gave her a nod, and that was enough for her. She left the room as quickly as possible, shoulders twisting to avoid colliding with a passing nurse.

He told her to strike him off of her list, but he was still in the hospital. He was doing well, but he was still recuperating. And that made not worrying about him difficult. Anyone who wasn't at arm's reach added another name to that list. Kaidan, Anderson, Miranda, her mother - they were all there, and that was only a fraction of the names.

She was halfway to the elevator when the door slid open. Liara stepped out of it, already glancing around, and her mouth fell open when she saw Payton heading towards her.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here, Liara," Payton greeted her, eyes falling to the books in the asari's hands. "Are you here to see Kaidan?"

"Is this a bad time?"

Glancing over her shoulder in the direction she'd come, Payton nodded. "He was close to asleep when I left."

"I was just coming to – close to asleep? So he wasn't yet?"

"Not yet, no. If you hurry, you might be able to catch him." She turned back towards Liara, motioning towards what she was still holding onto. "Brought him something?"

Liara's eyes fell to the gifts, smiling a little to herself. "Asari murder mysteries," she explained. "They're not very well-written, really, but no one wants to read award-winning literature when they're stuck in the hospital, do they?"

She was halfway through an explanation of why she'd chosen to bring him books rather than send him digital versions of the writing on his omni-tool when Payton interrupted her. "He'll like them," she said with a quiet laugh, and she reached up to give Liara's shoulder a pat. "Go on. But don't take too long. We're heading out again soon."

They parted just after, and Payton took the elevator to the hangar, head oddly clear after seeing Liara. Seeing her friend in such good spirits helped enough to keep her from fidgeting on the way down. It was good to be reminded that she and Kaidan were still there. She still had friends despite the miserable state of the galaxy.

She kept to herself as she made her way back to the ship until she heard a familiar voice over the buzz of constant conversation at the docks.

Steve was standing off in the corner, looking confused and mildly uncomfortable, trying to explain himself to the woman standing in front of him. She was nearly a foot shorter with curves that would intimidate anyone, no matter their preferences, and a hand on her hip.

"You're part of the Normandy's crew, aren't you?" the woman asked, shifting on her heels and tilting her head to the side. "I was hoping I could speak to Commander Shepard."

"Then you should speak to her."

Steve's eyes darted up towards Payton's voice, and the look that crossed his face was nothing less than pure relief. "Commander," he sighed, stepping around the woman to stand closer to her. "I came down to look for a few things, and Samantha asked if I could give you a message. It's important."

"Of course," Payton told him, but she looked to the woman before telling him to explain. "Is there something you need me for?"

"Diana Allers," she introduced, extending a hand that Payton took immediately. The handshake was a brief one, and her grip left something to be desired. "You may have heard of me. I'm a reporter for a news show called _Battlespace_. My producers want me in the thick of this war; they gave me permission to board any Alliance vessel I could find."

Payton nodded slowly. "So you want on the Normandy."

"Correct. You're going to be at the helm of this fight, and I want to be there, too. _If_ you'll let me." When Payton didn't immediately respond with her permission, Diana gave her a smile she hoped would be assuring. Her teeth were the shiny white of anyone involved in her line of work, but there was something genuine and excited about her grin. "The galaxy deserves to know what's going on with their big hero."

The smile didn't have the infectious effect she intended, but Payton didn't bristle at the idea, which was a step in the right direction. "I don't take this situation lightly," she said, looking down towards the reporter. "If I so much as get wind that you're not taking care to show the gravity of this war, you're off my ship."

Diana shook her head at that. "Oh, no, you won't get any of that from me, commander. I've seen how you handled that sensationalist from Westerlund News. You were terrifying – and brutally honest. No way am I getting on your bad side. Frankly, after your speech in the wards a few months ago, I'm surprised she hasn't retired."

"You have my permission," Payton said, effectively side-stepping any talk of the other reporter. "And an hour at the most to get yourself and your things on the Normandy."

"Exactly how much am I allowed to take?"

"However much is necessary, as long as you keep your supplies in the quarters you're given and none of it gets in the way."

Straightening her posture even more, Diana gave Payton a salute with her index and middle finger, her smile returning in full force. "Thank you, commander. The galaxy appreciates it."

The reporter was gone in a flash, no doubt to hurriedly pack her things and get to the Normandy as quick as she could. When she was gone, Payton turned her attention to Steve, who was still standing at her side. "Traynor. You said you had a message from Specialist Traynor."

"Right! Ah, we need to leave sooner than an hour, I'm afraid."

A brow arched on Payton's forehead. "Explain."

"We received an alert from Grissom Academy, but when we pinged them for details, a turian military vessel sent us a signal. Evidently it was meant to seem like a rescue mission." At the suspicious look Shepard gave him, Steve nodded. "It's not. EDI pointed out that there are similarities between that signal and one you ran into during your fight against the Collectors."

When the truth dawned on her, Payton took an involuntary step back. "It's Cerberus." Her brow furrowed, mouth moving for a moment before she found the words. "What do they want with - oh God."

"Commander?"

"I've seen what Cerberus does to biotics. We have to go. _Now_."

Steve gave her a quick nod. "I'll contact Liara and tell her to get to the Normandy asap."

"Thank you."

Payton felt like she was always running towards trouble. Running right at it without a thought edgewise, not caring what immovable object she might ram herself into. But she didn't have any other choice, and she never had. There was something happening at Grissom Academy; she didn't have the luxury of having a Plan B. No Plan B, and no exit strategy.

Her conversation with Kaidan was still fresh in her mind. She could still see Liara's smile and the dizzy look of enthusiasm on Diana's face. Some of them were close friends; others were near-strangers. That didn't change a thing, in the end.

The only reason anyone pushed back when something threatened to tip them over was the people who were willing to push with you.


	9. Chapter 9

When the heavily tattooed biotic stormed over to Shepard, the last thing James expected was for her to throw a punch.

To her credit, Shepard jerked backwards to avoid the fist, but the fact that she'd anticipated the blow posed more questions than it answered. During the shuttle ride over, James heard quite a bit about Jack, though most of that information had to be gleaned from this memory and that story. All he'd really concluded was that she was a complete and utter badass.

Which, he saw, was fairly accurate.

"When'd you start flinching, Shepard?"

Jack wasn't laughing, though he could hear Garrus' distinct turian chuckle behind him. And Shepard didn't seem offended or afraid or any in a long list of reactions. "Not flinching," Payton said, taking a step back before giving Jack a once over. "I've seen what happens when people don't duck."

"I was just checking you weren't brain dead." Jack's brows knitted inward, arms folding beneath her breasts. "Cerberus? Really?"

James' mouth was open before he could even consider his words. "The commander isn't working with Cerberus anymore." Glancing at Payton, whose attention he'd caught by speaking up, he worked his jaw. "So does everybody think you're working with them still, or...?"

"Calm down, Bruiser," Jack teased, an obvious lightness to her words that only served to highlight the biting jibe beneath. "Got yourself an attack dog, Shepard? Cute."

After hearing Garrus compare Shepard to Jack a few times, likely as a way to antagonize her in hindsight, James had imagined an entirely different kind of woman to meet them at Grissom Academy. He was expecting someone with discipline, straight-backed in an Alliance uniform. Jack was nothing of the sort, impressive biotics aside.

"Yeah, she reminds me a lot of you, commander."

Payton bit her lip to hold back a frustrated sigh. She knew sarcasm when she heard it, but the sound grated on her when there was something they had to do, somewhere they needed to be. "I'm not working for Cerberus. Long story short, the Illusive Man used the same signal he did to get us onto the Collector vessel months ago."

"Bastard," Jack said through gritted teeth when the reality of the situation set in. If not for Shepard and her history with Cerberus, someone might have bought the signal and believed that they were okay. They weren't okay. "The old dog needs to learn a few new tricks if he wants to keep fucking with you."

"So... Jack." Garrus' mandibles flared with curiosity. "Babysitting?"

Leaning to look over Shepard's shoulder, Jack managed a laugh under her breath. "Yeah, and any one of these babies could kick you ass, Vakarian."

"Well, I'm not so sure about that. The scruffy looking one's shields are pretty unimpressive."

Jack laughed again, this time louder, before turning around and shouting up towards the second level. "Prangley! You hear that? _Mister_ Vakarian agrees with me!"

"I doubt Mister Vakarian's ever had to hold up a biotic field!" Prangley paused. "Ma'am!"

"He took a missile to the face and then helped me take down the Collectors," she shouted. "So I think your argument is pretty damn invalid, don't you? I want you to work on that field or you'll be all the way at the back!"

Payton shifted on her feet, chin tilted upwards to take in the full view. When she mentioned Jack finding some way to help biotics prepare for the war, she never expected she'd find her at Grissom. The place was pure, clean Alliance from top to bottom; it wasn't exactly the sort of place she expected Jack to thrive. But she had, from the looks of it. She'd never seen her so focused on something that wasn't destructive. Self-destructive, at least.

"We need to move," Payton said, quietly, still mostly distracted by the sudden rush of pride. Looking back down to Jack, she smiled. The grin was a small one, but big and obvious enough to make Jack roll her eyes. "It's good to see you're doing what you can."

"Yeah, well, maybe you set a good example." Jack shrugged, though she was smiling lopsidedly soon after. "Figured, 'Hey, Shepard's Alliance and she kicks more ass than anyone I ever ran into, so maybe I should go to them. Help out.'"

They were chatting for no more than a momen when Kahlee Sanders' voice filtered up from Shepard's hardsuit, dolling out a set of orders she quickly set out to complete. The feeling was still there as she discovered the Cerberus laptop and helped Kahlee hook up to the cameras - that warm, almost content feeling at seeing Jack setting up somewhere steady. While she'd never gotten along with the temperamental biotic on a professional level, once she looked beyond that rough exterior, it was easy to understand why they would never be close friends. Not friends, perhaps, but they could be allies.

Now, however, she wasn't so sure they couldn't get along. There was so much potential for growth, for understanding, and Payton was glad that she was being given another perspective on her former squad member. Everyone needed something to fight for in a time like this. Knowing that Jack found that something made the issue of Grissom Academy seem even more worthwhile.

When the students were gathered on the first floor, standing around and waiting for orders, Payton passed through them to stand at the front of the group next to Jack. They were fidgety and uncomfortable. Whatever frenzy Cerberus whipped them into had settled, but there was still a tension there that would either help or hurt them in the inevitable fight beyond the doors.

James stepped up behind Payton, and Garrus stood beside him, his sniper rifle and the marine's shotgun held in their arms. Everyone was ready; all they needed was the word.

"Hey, Shepard." Jack turned around to look up at her. "You're good at this sorta thing. Maybe you should say a few words. Don't you get some kinda girl scout badge for public speaking?"

Payton's lips pressed together, and she shook her head.

"Ugh, killjoy." Turning back to her students, her hands fell to her hips. They were all staring at her, looking to her instead of the woman at her back. They wanted to hear what she had to say. "Alright, so. We're getting to those shuttles and getting off this station. Nothing's gonna stop us. I don't care what kind of firepower Cerberus brought with 'em. I've got you guys, and you guys have got Commander Shepard leading the charge."

The students were still antsy, still shifting on their feet, still staring at Jack like she was waiting to explain how they were going to get to the shuttles. They were young, but they weren't stupid. "You've been shot at today," she continued, stepping closer to the group. "And none of you are on the ground, bleeding out, so I'm gonna call that a win."

One of the female students near the back gave a snort of laughter. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, but I'm serious. How many of you here have been shot at before? With an actual gun? By someone who was trying to kill you?"

Garrus raised his hand slowly, which got another, louder round of laughter out of the students.

"Anyone here _not_ an old man can say the same?" Glaring over her shoulder at the three behind her, Jack jutted out her chin and turned back towards her kids. "That's what I thought."

"But those were only a few guys," Rodriguez chimed in, looking more anxious than any of the others. "We can hold up a decent field if we're all working together. What are we supposed to do with the rest of them?"

"Nothing," Jack said simply. "You're gonna hold up the field and watch from the balcony as Shepard kills everyone. Right?"

Payton nodded, raising her voice to match Jack's. "It would be safer if you kept up a barrier. We need you to get off of this station alive if you want to help in this war. Going on the offensive won't help anyone."

"Why are you complaining, Rodriguez? I saw that look of yours when I told you I knew Commander Shepard. Didn't know you were into that."

The girl's chin dipped down, her tanned skin flushing a shade darker.

"Everyone's into that when it comes to Commander Shepard," a female voice said from the back of the group. Payton's lips pursed to keep from saying anything, eyes falling to the floor as her cheeks pressed up into her eyes in a smile.

"Exactly! So keep your barriers up, and we get front row tickets to the show!"

Reaching up to rub her gloved hand over her forehead, Payton cleared her throat. "While I appreciate the thought, I may need your help." She pulled herself back up into her usual posture. "Keep a look out. If you see anyone flanking me, hit them with a warp. If you see anyone clustering together, a singularity. Everything you've learned in these classes might save your lives just as well as it might save mine here today."

It wasn't every day a group of teenagers got the chance to save the life of someone like Commander Shepard. Even faced with Cerberus forces, none of them could deny that this sort of opportunity was exciting. Certain death or no, they wouldn't likely get another chance to protect someone like her ever again.

And only a few minutes later, after another morale boost and Shepard prying the doors to the Atrium open herself, they were given ample enough opportunity.

Shepard moved across the room more than anyone expected out of a sniper. One moment she stood beside Garrus, both of them lining up a shot, and then another, she pulled her cloak and moved farther up, closer to an engineer to melt his turret before he even had a chance to set it up.

The students kept their attention on her and James carefully after being given orders from Jack to watch Shepard and the "dumbass" to her left. He barreled through the Cerberus troops like they were nothing. At one point, he got a, 'holy shit!' out of one of the students when he grabbed one of the troop's shields through the slot and yanked it out of his arms, delivering the killshot via his shotgun to the man's chest. The barrel was too close to be blocked by his shields; the trooper didn't stand a chance.

Jack watched Garrus' back, opting out of watching where Shepard and the new guy was heading towards to keep anyone from sneaking up behind him. Very few of the troops bothered with him. They never got close enough. She missed being down there with Payton. She missed knocking husks up off of their feet with her biotics and watching as Garrus sniped them out of air.

No matter who was with her, Shepard's squad worked like a well-oiled machine. "You guys could learn something from her!" Jack shouted at her students over the sound of the Atlas' feet hitting the ground and the Cerberus troops' cover fire.

"What? How to listen to our CO!"

Jack shot a withering look in Seanne's direction. The girl was only barely able to help hold up the fields, but they were all keeping themselves together. They weren't doing half-bad. "Yeah, actually. Rodriguez! What the hell kind of throw was that?"

Rodriguez steeled herself, feet planted firmly on the ground, and Jack watched as her second attempt sent a trooper flying. The man hit the far wall and seemed to crumple in on himself once he hit the water.

"That better, ma'am?" she shouted, brows digging in so low on her face they almost touched the bridge of her nose.

Jack nodded without a word, turning back to Garrus a moment after she saw the smile on her face. The students were doing well with holding the barrier. Those on the offensive were doing even better, though she couldn't help but wish they weren't. If they were better on the defensive, Shepard might realize that and keep the kids back, let her keep them safe. But she wasn't about to lie to them. Positive reinforcement was a hell of a drug; Jack had been convinced of that much from the very beginning of her stint at Grissom Academy.

On the first floor of the Atrium, Payton couldn't keep her eyes off of James. In between spikes of anger when he ran ahead was squeezed a certain appreciation for his ability to take everything in stride, to think on his toes, even when he was faced by a force that outnumbered him four or five to one at any given time.

After working with both Wrex and Grunt, she wasn't incapable of altering her approach to the battle around someone like him. When she saw an opening, she took a shot and was often on the receiving end of a 'look' that followed James being sprayed with the hot slick of blood and bits of grey matter.

Every once in a while, she heard Garrus muttering about his location, followed by a few frustrated clips digging into whatever troops surrounded either Payton or James.

At first sight, they appeared to be working together, but they weren't. Payton knew the advantages of working with your squad. Her entire career was formed around her ability to work with or lead a group of men and women into battle effectively. But she also discovered that working against those same people often presented similar results.

James' gung-ho approach to a fight led her to moving more quickly. It led to her scouring the field, finding the strongest trooper and tearing down his shields so James or Garrus might get the shot. It led to James grabbing a few troopers by the throat of their armor and holding them still when before he would beat them unconscious. And it often led to him being doused in whatever disgusting spray came from a sniper shot to the head, but he could clean himself off after.

And when the fight was over, there were no casualties. Jack reported the same, and Payton found that she wasn't surprised.

"Get them to the shuttles, Jack," Shepard ordered. Even though her face didn't show it, there was a smile in her voice. Whatever hints of pride she felt before had solidified. "And be careful. There will be reinforcements waiting."

"Aye aye, commander."

The teasing tone Jack gave her made the smile finally surface, but she shook it off, pointing towards the doors that led towards where the Cerberus shuttles were docked.

"That was a hell of a fight," James said as they made their way down the hallway. "Those kids have some serious skill."

Garrus chuckled. "Jack in a position of authority. Who'd have ever thought, right?"

No one who knew the biotic not even a year prior would have ever expected her to be in this position. Payton didn't believe the woman could be trusted to keep herself out of harm's way, much less watch over and teach a group of kids. They weren't even kids like her. They were biotics from the Alliance, usually from good families, privileged enough to not be stuck on the streets. At first sight, it didn't look like Jack would find anything other than her abilities in common with her students.

"Yeah, it's... odd, to say the least, but I'm glad she's found some way to help out with the war effort." Payton paused, leaning around the corner when she heard voices. There were two heavily armored men standing in front of a shield, the width of their bodies blocking her from seeing the students. Turning back towards James and Garrus, she held up her index and middle finger before motioning for them to stay put.

Her rifle was still warm from the fight, but she had enough to take them down. She was sure of that much.

Shoulder pressed against the curve of the wall, Payton hefted up her rifle and peered through the sights. One of the students was focused on keeping up the shield while the other worked on his omni-tool. There was another, bent, working on the generator, but his face was obscured by the object.

Once the shot was lined up, she pulled the trigger. The first trooper's body was thrown forward, the force of the bolt ripping through his shields and tearing into his throat. This alerted the second, and she leaned back around the corner just as he unleashed a full clip of his assault rifle into the wall.

"Garrus," Payton barked out as she shoved a new heat sink into her rifle. "Overload his shields. I'll take the shot when he's stunned."

"Right."

She could hear the tell-tale clicking of the trooper removing his heat sink, and that's when she motioned for Garrus to hit him with the overload. After a few strokes over his omni-tool's interface, he side-stepped out of cover and spread his talons. The trooper dropped his rifle as if it'd caught fire, his body going taut and a pained grunt filtering through his helmet.

As she'd said, Payton then took the shot. A round hit him in the chest, throwing him to the floor, and then a second hit him in the gut as he shifted on the ground. His feet stopped kicking the moment the bolt dug into his stomach.

Even with the two troopers down, the students didn't look any less tense. They stared through the shields at Payton and her squad as they approached, caution reflecting in their wide eyes. Only the young man bent behind the generator didn't seem wary, but even when she'd first been able to speak with him, he'd never been afraid.

Payton's voice was full of disbelief when she finally found it in her throat. "David?"

David Archer rose to his full height, hands smoothing over the crimson fabric of his uniform. "Commander Shepard." He greeted her with the same soft distance she remembered. "You do not need the shield. She won't hurt us."

"How are we supposed to believe that?" the girl bit back, eyes darting between David and Payton. "This might be some kind of trick!"

"She saved me," David told her. His fingers still played over the folds of his shirt, hands always moving, one after the other, without so much as a thought spared towards stopping them. "She is the reason I'm here. It's not... a trick."

The boy with the omni-tool looked up from it for long enough to remind Octavia that David didn't play tricks. If anything, his word was law. He spoke only in full truths. Everyone knew he was incapable of deception, or perhaps unwilling to use it for a means to an end.

After a moment of contemplation, Octavia's will to keep up the shield bent, and it dissolved into nothing, leaving the three students standing there in plain sight. David took a step forward, closer to Payton, and the two others stepped to the side, an involuntary bid to give David more space.

"It's good to see you're doing well, David," Payton told him, a warm smile creasing the skin around her eyes. "You're keeping yourself safe, I hope."

"The other students help. I make sure their shields don't fail," he explained. "I keep them safe. They do the same for me."

Octavia rubbed at the back of her neck. "Right. Ah, thanks, commander. I'm sorry about not believing you. Getting shot at really rattles your nerves. I've been jumpy for..."

"It's been six hours and twenty minutes since the first Cerberus shuttle landed."

"Six hours and _maybe_ ten minutes, then."

Payton shook her head, a hand raised to interrupt her. "Don't worry about it. A little paranoia will probably save your life in these sorts of situations."

The two other students broke off after that to give her time to speak to David. Even James and Garrus stepped away, leaving her with the young man she'd torn out of the hands of his brother only a few months before.

"I hope you'll take care of yourself," she told him, though she knew her words weren't necessary. He would be careful. He knew what hurt, and he knew how to avoid those very things. "You have to stay with those two until you can meet up with Jack and her students."

"Everyone knows when to fight and when not to fight." There was a small smile at the corner of his mouth, though he stared in her direction as if he could see right through her. "We know when we have to survive, and we will."

Those words echoed back to Payton hours later after she'd shed her armor and returned her rifle to the armory. They were there when Specialist Traynor told her that Anderson wanted to speak to her, that he was available through the QEC. They were still ringing in her ears when he materialized in front of her, wearing a familiar weary smile.

"So Jeff filled me in while you were on your way back to the Normandy," Anderson began without a word of greeting, though there was a fondness in his tone that made it sound like one. "You're trying to broker peace between the krogan and the turians?"

"That's right," Payton replied, fingers clasped in front of her.

Anderson chuckled, and the sound was almost a relieved one. "Damn. Next I hear, you'll be walking on water and then turning it into wine."

"I wasn't really going for the prophet angle." She dipped her head down, smiling through the pull in her chest. "But whatever keeps your morale up on Earth. I'll play the savior if that's what you need."

"What we need is for you to tell the Reapers to get the hell out of our galaxy."

Payton breathed out a quiet laugh. "I wish it was that easy. For both of us."

"Yeah, I know how that is." Anderson shifted his weight from one foot to the other, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest. "I also heard you were 'investigating' an 'attack' on Grissom Academy. Cerberus is attacking human facilities now?"

"I don't know what the Illusive Man wants," she confessed, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. "He was there for Jack. He wants to start turning biotics into troops, but... I'm not sure what for." Looking back up at him, she tilted her head to the side. What they were saying wasn't as important as what wasn't being said. "I ran into Kahlee Sa -"

"Oh?"

"-nders." Payton's brows lifted in surprise. "She told me to tell you to stay safe."

Anderson gave another chuckle, this one even warmer than the last. "Oh, did she now? Well, it looks like you've got some competition when it comes to boosting _my_ morale."

"I'll ignore the fact that your crush just made you giggle like a teenager and say that I'm glad I could give you a little good news."

"A little? Payton, that's the best news I've heard all week."

Payton grinned at him, though her brows pinched upwards above her nose. "I'm glad I could pass it along, then. We'll be there soon, Anderson. Just... survive. Keep fighting. We're fighting for you guys down on Earth."

"It'll take more than this to kick the fight out of humanity. Especially now that you've lit a fire under my ass."

_Everyone knows when to fight and when not to fight._

They parted with a few more promises and even more well wishes, and Payton left the war room with a smile on her face and something that felt like renewed hope. All it took was a few words, seeing Anderson's face, being reminded of why they were all fighting.

The smile didn't fade away. Not when Primarch Victus grumbled about another delay in negotiations. Not when Specialist Traynor informed her of a message from Kenneth Donnelly on her console. And not when she read the details inside.

_We know when we have to survive._

_And we will._


	10. Chapter 10

Purgatory was exactly the sort of place Payton hated having to visit. Her time spent in Afterlife and Chora's Den was short, but it wasn't Omega's gritty club scene or a strip joint in the Wards that reminded her of her past. There was a security to be found inside of an expensive bar on the Presidium, and that kind exterior and cleanliness made her more uncomfortable than any shady back alley.

Wringing out her hands, Payton took in the club's interior with a critical eye. There was shouting and cheering. There was dancing. But beneath the bass line and familiar metallic twang of turian instruments, there was no joy. There was a frenzy, a pulsing and frantic air, and it only lent to the tension that kept her stationary.

The last time she'd seen the inside of a club like this, she was nearly twenty-five. That was also the first time she met Anderson outside of a formal setting.

She could remember the sickeningly sweet burn of asari liquor so clearly it was almost as if she still held it on her tongue. It'd been a night full of shots with her fellow snipers, a celebration of a victory they shouldn't have come back from. But thanks to her overwhelming disregard for her own safety, she discovered a way.

He walked right up to her and snatched the shot glass out of her hand. The liquor sloshed over the rim and dripped down his knuckles, onto her lap. Not half an hour later, she was sitting in his apartment with the strict order to "sober up" before they spoke, smelling of a foreign fruit she couldn't name.

The only difference between that night and this club was the fact that she was standing in Anderson's shoes. While they fit her surprisingly well for the time being, she wasn't sure she would be able to wear them in this setting for much longer.

Payton released a slow breath and began the trek up the stairwell towards the bar on the second level. Even from a distance, she could see the man she'd come to talk to.

Kenneth Donnelly stood at the bar, shoulders hunched forward as he spoke to the asari behind the counter. While he wasn't shouting at the petite alien, he kept raking his fingers through his hair and pointing towards the door, dropping familiar words like _Shepard _and _soon_. He wasn't there to drink, though from the looks of things, he was close to changing his mind.

"Look, she'll be here," he told the asari, sounding more worried and anxious than angry. "Just - just give her a few more minutes. She said she'd - she'll be here."

The asari inclined her head towards Payton. "She's already here."

When Ken turned to look in her direction, her fingers clutched into fists at her sides, a physical reaction to seeing him that she couldn't quite fight off. Anyone else, someone who knew him before he joined the Normandy, might have been surprised at his change, but this was the only face she remembered. The pinched brows, the tight jaw, the poor posture - after what happened on the Collector base, this was Kenneth Donnelly. He was a reminder, both of what she'd done, what she failed to do, and what she had to set right.

"Oi, yeah, I know. I look like shit," he said, voice pitched low, but loud enough for her to hear. "Can you just give her your credit chit so we can get out of here?"

Nodding, Payton stepped up to the bar and dug the chit out of her pocket. The arrangement wasn't a beneficial one. Not for her, at least. Bailey wanted to make room in the C-Sec prison, and Kenneth didn't want to spend however many years stuck there. He wanted to get out. Bailey wanted Kenneth's outrageous debt paid off. And Adams needed another hand in Engineering.

The transaction was a quick one. Ken's tab was paid off in a moment's time, and she returned her credit chit to her pocket just after. But they didn't leave. Kenneth wanted to go; he was already halfway down the stairs when she caught up to him. But there was something that had to be said.

"Stop," Payton called out to him, descending the stairs between them when he paused. "I need you to promise me that this isn't going to happen again."

"We're not gonna be on the Citadel, captain," he told her. He didn't tilt up his chin to make up for the fact that she stood a few stairs above him. He simply looked at her, forehead wrinkling as his eyebrows pressed upwards. "It's over, alright?"

With that, he turned around and began walking down the stairs. He only made it down two when he felt fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him back, keeping him still. Jerking away from her grip, he stopped a second time. "It's over. Jesus Christ. I know better than to lie to you."

Pulling her hand back, Payton folded her arms. "And I know better than to believe it's that easy. It's only been six months, Donnelly. And you've only spent two weeks of those in a cell. You're not _over_ it."

"I'm sick of sitting around and doing nothing." Kenneth didn't look at her this time, shoulders curving inwards again and his eyes focused on the flashing violet lights of the club. "I don't wanna be on that ship for anythin', but where else am I supposed to go?"

"If you want to help so badly, you could find work on the Citadel."

Kenneth rolled his eyes. "And end up here every night? You saw how much good that did me."

"Then come with me. But this is not happening again."

"It won't. The booze you've got on the Normandy is shit anyway."

She didn't believe him. He was too desperate to get out, too intent on separating himself from the club and the atmosphere, like he was running away from it rather than facing the issue. The realization that that was familiar, too, was a punch to the gut.

When she didn't immediately reply, he started walking down the stairs again, only to be called back with a sharp, "Kenneth!"

"What?"

Payton walked down to meet him, this time standing on the same stair. Her expression shifted as much as she could manage. Empathy stung, so she settled for pity. "I'm sorry," she told him. "This is my fault. I should have kept in touch. Maybe this wouldn't have –"

"You're right." Kenneth's voice was rough. He still refused to look at her, pointedly focused at the shining grey metal beneath his feet instead. If he would've looked at her then, he might have been even angrier. "This is your fault. But it's not because you didn't _ring_."

Pulling away from her and out of the conversation, Kenneth descended the final stretch of stairs and walked out of the club, never so much as glancing around. He didn't want to say goodbye to Purgatory. He didn't even want to say good riddance. He just wanted to get out. And when the doors closed behind him, Payton's breath caught in her throat.

She'd tripped.

She'd stepped into Anderson's shoes and tripped the moment she took her first step. The situations were different. Anderson had no reason to apologize to her. Akuze hadn't happened because of him. She hadn't lost her crew because of him. She never lost someone she loved because of him.

But Kenneth's loss was on her hands. She had no right to tell him to get over it, no right to force him to sober up, because she was so steeped in guilt.

Running her hands over her forearms, Payton glanced around the club again. The lights were bright; their color, garish. Everything still seemed so foreign. But standing far off to the side, leaning against the second bar, was a familiar face. She hadn't seen James earlier, but he'd seen her from the looks of it. He didn't move to see how she was, knowing it was better to sit this one out, but he wasn't looking away.

She squared her jaw and looked away, striding out of the club with her hands at her sides. The moment the club's doors slid closed behind her, she swore to herself that she wouldn't talk to him about what he'd seen.

But curiosity broke promises as easily as anything, and Payton was in the shuttle bay only a few hours later.

At the sight of her, back in her Alliance casuals and her hair pulled back in the same braid, James called for everyone to clear out. When Steve called out something dismissive from behind the Kodiak, he wasn't having it. "Uh uh, Esteban; the commander needs some space!" Steve shot back something about James taking up more of that space than James did, but eventually put up his tools and disappeared into the elevator with the rest of them.

Payton busied herself at the procurement console, scrolling through the items available to keep from telling him none of this was necessary. Her kneejerk reaction to deny that there was a problem was the wrong one. She knew it. She knew she had to say something just as clearly as she knew she couldn't do it with a dozen people standing around her.

Folding his arms over his chest, James watched as her hands moved over the interface. She was tense. Even more so than usual. And seeing her up close for the first time since the chat she had with Donnelly in Purgatory was enlightening.

"So what's up with you, Lola?" he asked, eyes drifting up from her hands to her face. "I saw you at Purgatory. Didn't seem like shore leave to me."

"It wasn't." She looked over at him from the screen. "I was tending to business regarding Donnelly's transfer to the Normandy."

James huffed quietly. "Right. Business like that at a bar. Sounds legit."

"I paid for his tab," she said, the words leaving her quickly. Like tugging off a bandage. "It was the only way Bailey would let him transfer onto my ship. So I dealt with it. Why do you care?"

"Because you obviously do." Stepping away, James' hands fell to his sides, lingering there for a moment before digging into his pockets. "I've never seen you get physical with someone like that. Not someone who wasn't shooting at you, at least. So something's wrong. You can talk to me about it." He walked around behind her, watching as she glanced over her shoulder. She didn't see a smile on his face, which meant he wasn't mocking her. He didn't give that impression. "If it's not a touchy subject."

Payton narrowed her eyes at the console. "It's a touchy subject," she murmured, both index fingers tapping at the desk as she tried to focus on the upgrades on the screen. "You should know."

That shut him up, if only momentarily.

"You've been on my ship for almost two weeks now. You don't think I would keep you here without looking over your files?" James worked his jaw as she continued, stopping at her back, waiting for her to turn around. She didn't. "You have a little experience when it comes to losing people."

"A little?"

While she hadn't used the slight as bait, he snatched it up without a moment's hesitation. "What happened on Fehl Prime was an isolated incident. It's happened to you _once_."

"It still fucking happened."

Payton turned around, facing him with her lips pressed into a line. "Yes. It happened. _Once_. An isolated incident. I shouldn't have to explain to you what a little experience entails."

"Just because I didn't make a habit out of losing my squad –"

James stopped short when a finger snapped up into his face. "Don't," she told him. "Don't go there, lieutenant. You don't want to finish that sentence."

He swatted her hand away from his eyes. "Yeah, maybe I _do_." Payton didn't press closer. She didn't flare up from being dusted away like the solid threat was nothing. "You give me a lot of shit about acting the way I do, but we're not any different. I'm just not where you are yet. I don't wanna be." Swallowing thickly, James was the one who pressed forward. He had too much to say. There were too many thoughts circling his head, and that meant only one thing. His words would come out wrong. And they did. "The second I get so fucking bitter and repressed, I'll get somebody to take me out back and put me out of my misery."

"What are you trying to say, James?"

That was the first time she'd ever called him by his first name. But the solid, almost dull way she said it made him wish it hadn't been. "I'm saying that you're a lot more screwed up than I am."

He was so close to her he could see the lines in her skin. He could see the shift of muscles, the momentary pinch of her brow and the frown that tugged down the corners of her lips. And when she spoke again, he could almost feel the warning in her voice. "Get out of my face."

He didn't move. He didn't step away and go about his business. Anyone else would have. Anyone with half a brain at that point would have. But she wasn't his superior officer anymore. She was a potential threat, to herself and to him and to her crew.

"Step away, lieutenant."

"No," he said, his own words pitching lower. "You can't just make me pretend I don't see what's going on."

Payton could feel her throat tightening, could feel a tug in the center of her chest and a heat rising up the back of her neck. "You don't," she spat out. "You don't get it. You have no idea –"

"Who else!"

She ordered him to take a step back, but he took a step forward.

"What?"

"Who else here gets it?"

Even as she let out a shuddering breath, her glare didn't waver. "You don't," she shouted. There were no tears in her eyes. There wasn't even a blue flame. There was nothing. "You have no idea what it's like! And pretending like you do doesn't help anything!"

The first fist flew when he reached out to grab her arm. James grunted as his neck snapped at the impact. The force to his jaw kept whatever attempt to get her to calm down locked in his mouth with the flavor of metal.

The second fist was followed by blood and a gasp.

Payton's hand went to her face, stifling the flow down her upper lip, brows knitted above her likely broken nose.

The shuttle bay was quiet for a long time after that. Every now and then, Payton took a breath through her mouth, but even that was quiet. She was too focused on stopping the bleeding to care about anything else. Not the spots on her uniform, not the bright red gash of color from her fingers to her wrist. And any time James tried to say something, a sharp pain shot up his jaw. They were forced to merely stare at each other.

Whatever angry looked they'd worn were gone. They were replaced with looks of shock that slowly translated into pain and then acceptance. Payton was still flushed, the heat from her neck turning her ears and the apples of her cheeks bright pink. But even that didn't stop her from being the first to speak.

"That was incredibly stupid," she told him. "You should have just walked away."

"Yeah, because I have a great track record of walking away from you."

Payton's eyes fell to her hand, at the smear of blood. "That doesn't matter. You should have walked away, not grabbed me. That wouldn't have happened if you wouldn't have grabbed my arm."

He huffed, though his entire body seemed to tense at the pain that followed. "You were gonna snap anyway. Might as well be at me."

"Still a stupid move, James." She up from her hand and into his eyes, tonguing over her upper lip when she felt a trickle over the curve of it. "Do _not_ do that again. I'm letting this slide as self-defense. But if you get in my face like that again, especially about this, you're gone."

"Fine," he said, stretching his neck and pressing the pads of his fingers against his jaw to measure the damage. "Whatever. You've really gotta relax, Lola."

Payton shook her head and stepped away from the console. "I don't have the luxury of relaxing." When she was only a few steps away from him and closer to the elevator, she turned back around. "You know, you never told me why you call me that."

"Ah. Yeah, uh, can I tell you later?" James shifted on his feet. "Not really digging the idea of getting punched again."

A smile hitched at the corner of her mouth. "Now you have to tell me."

"I don't have to tell you anything."

"Lieutenant..."

James chuckled, skin around his eyes creasing at the feeling that laced up the side of his face. "Lola was a girl I knew when I was younger," he said. "Had a bit of a thing for her. She was tough. Hot, too, but tough."

Watching her for whatever reaction he'd get from the admission, he let out a breath of relief when she gave a thoughtful little nod. She wiped her fingers beneath her nose and then looked down at herself, at the stains on her clothes and on her skin. "Hot," she murmured. "Right."

"Mostly tough?" he offered.

"Mhm."

When Payton turned around and began to walk towards the elevator again, James rolled his eyes. "She never punched me, though!" he called after her. "I might have to rethink the nickname!"

She didn't respond with words. But right before the elevator's door closed, she lifted the hand she'd used to wipe the blood from her nose and gave him a wave. It was a small one, a quick little swish of her fingers, but it was something.

His jaw hurt. It would hurt for days. But at least she didn't punch him again.

He considered that a small victory.


	11. Chapter 11

"Having all of these diplomats on the Normandy freaks me out."

James idled behind Joker's chair, hands deep in his pockets. Payton and the small horde behind her had disappeared into the negotiation room twenty minutes before, eighteen of which he'd spent walking up and down the catwalk leading to the cockpit from the CIC. He'd skipped out on his fifth set of pull ups to check on the situation.

Even with the faint purple color banding over the bridge of her already thick nose, she looked exactly the same as she always did. She wore her Alliance dress blues, but there was no difference there, either. Payton didn't need a dress uniform to look the part she was currently playing; it was in her posture and in her presence. And she'd covered the bruising near her cheekbones with makeup anyway.

Joker didn't appreciate the company, but he was distracted enough to not complain. "What?" Tilting his head up, he caught James' eyes for a moment before the marine rolled his. He could predict oncoming abuse to the letter now. "Afraid you'll open your mouth and end up some kind of diplomatic incident?"

"Don't judge," James said through a chuckle. "I mean, I get that you're probably used to it, but..."

"Touche."

James smiled to himself. It wasn't often anyone could get the drop on Joker, especially not him. When it happened, he was more than content to revel in the success for however long it lasted. "Just freaks me out, I guess. I don't really mesh with politicians."

"No, really? But you _scream_ class president."

"There's too much riding on this," James pressed, ignoring the slight without so much as batting an eyelash. "What if something gets screwed up? What if I piss the dalatrass off?"

Joker laughed at that, knocking his wrist against the bill of his cap so he could look up at James without it shading his line of sight. "Then don't say anything to her. Unless you offend her by existing, I'd say that's the best course of action."

"You think she'd –?" His hands were smoothing over the grey fabric of his shirt before it clicked. "Right."

The cockpit lapsed into quiet again. A buzz of chatter from the CIC interrupted the silence even less than James' footsteps and the constant hum of machinery. He didn't like not talking. He hated standing around and waiting even more now than he had the last time he was stuck standing behind the pilot's seat.

After a while, he had to say something. "Does she have to deal with this a lot? The whole 'say the right thing or you start a galactic war' thing?"

"Shit, yeah. You have _no_ idea."

James nodded thoughtfully. "No wonder she's so stressed out."

"Yeah," Joker laughed. "Good job on finding that out for yourself. The hard way."

His hand went to his jaw. Even two days later, it was still tender to the touch. The bruise had faded to an ugly yellow. "So does everybody know about that?"

"That you clocked your commanding officer?" Joker said, squirming deeper into his chair before returning his hands to the console. "Uh, _yeah_. You broke her nose. Of course everybody knows. I had to convince Liara not to go down and have a little chat."

"What? She was gonna kick my ass?"

"She was gonna kick your ass."

Everyone on the Normandy was like family. He wasn't surprised Liara was more interested in hurting him than fixing Payton up at the time. While their connection was problematic on occasion, there was something enviable about their closeness. But when you went through hell with a group of people, they became a part of you.

While he'd only been part of this crew for a couple of weeks, James was already starting to see it in how everyone treated him. Adams passed him a new pack of cards a week in. Garrus gave him a few tips on upgrading his assault rifle. Even Liara, who'd been more wary of him than anyone else, mentioned helping him find his family in the mess a few days prior. Before the incident in the shuttle bay.

He told her he'd think about it, that he wasn't sure anyone made it out, but the offer was what counted.

That sense of family was reflected in their next heading.

After the summit was over and done with, Payton headed up to the cockpit to give Joker his orders instead of sending a message through the system. No one was surprised when she seemed less than pleased with the outcome.

"We're going to Sur'Kesh," she told Joker after stepping up next to James, narrowly avoiding making eye contact in favor of staring out of the of the forward window. "Wrex is coming down with us."

"That sounds like a good time," Joker said, picking his words slowly. "A krogan on the salarian homeworld? You sure that's a good idea?"

Payton didn't answer immediately. Wrapping her fingers around the wrist held behind her back, her shoulders shifted upwards and fell back down again. "We don't have any other choice. The only way the krogan will help the turians is if they have a cure for the genophage."

"Shit," James muttered. "That's a tall order. Can we even do that?"

"We don't have any other choice," she repeated, turning her head just enough to look at him. "There are female krogan on Sur'Kesh. Word is that some of them are immune. The first dozen steps towards having a cure is there."

Joker's hands moved at breakneck speeds over the console, and in a matter of seconds, they were on their way towards their destination. "Then that's where we're going."

"Good," Payton told him, taking two steps away before turning around and starting to walk away. "ETA?"

As she made her way down the catwalk, strides even longer than usual, EDI's voice chimed in over the communications system. "The ETA is 1400 hours, Sur'Kesh time; approximately two hours. Unless you encounter trouble, you and your squad should arrive at the salarian facility at 1500."

"Thank you, EDI."

"Will I be accompanying you on this mission, commander?"

Payton smiled, if only a little. "Not this time, EDI. Tell Garrus to meet me in the shuttle bay in an hour and a half." Pausing nearer to the CIC, she turned around and looked back towards the lieutenant. "You, too, James."

"Yes, ma'am," James said with a grin, pushing away from the back of Joker's chair and giving her a casual, two-fingered salute.

Both men were there to board the shuttle right on time, armored and fully equipped, ready to be briefed on the mission. Wrex was there, too, much to Garrus' surprise. "I didn't think they'd let krogan groundside on Sur'Kesh," he told him, though Wrex didn't take the bait. His gloved hands worked at his shotgun, red eyes unwavering from Garrus' face. "I don't think you can pass for a turian. Human, maybe, since we've got Lieutenant Vega with us."

An indignant, "Hey!" was heard from the back of the shuttle, followed by a quiet chuckle from the commander.

"You're not gonna let them talk about me like that, are you, commander?"

She shrugged, moving closer to the front of the shuttle. When she passed by Wrex, she looked him up and down, earning a _heh_ from the krogan. "I don't know, lieutenant. There are a few similarities. Garrus is a damn beanpole in comparison."

Garrus' mandibles flared before he smoothed his hands over his stomach, talons tapping against his armor. "I believe the correct term is 'sleek,' Shepard."

"Excuse me. Garrus is _sleek_," Payton continued, voice raised just enough for James to hear her. He laughed to himself, shaking his head. "Though I don't think there's really any difference. He's just covering his ego."

"So I hear there are krogan females on Sur'Kesh." Garrus diverted the subject as gracefully as he could manage. He rested his hands on his hips and his head tilted a little in thought, eyes moving between Wrex and James, who was still sitting at the very back of the shuttle. "Maybe we can find one of them for James. Scuttlebutt claims the lieutenant's _lonely_."

Payton could hear Vega groan even above Garrus' rambling diatribe about krogan ladies and scars, but she tuned out of the conversation just after, crouching down next to Steve's seat. He looked down at her, chin angled and an expectant expression on his face.

"We're not expecting action on Sur'Kesh, but we rarely ever expect a firefight." Her mouth twisted up at the sides, and she nodded when he replied with, "Doesn't mean we won't get one."

Nowhere in the plans had they considered the salarians the threat, but that didn't stop three snipers from setting their sights on Wrex the moment his feet hit the ground. Granted, he was shouting threats at them and wielding a shotgun with all the patience of five year old. But Payton had a vague understanding of the dire situation Wrex was being presented with. She could empathize as much as an outsider could. And she was similarly desperate retrieve the krogan females.

Though she wasn't the sort of woman to bend to her own kneejerk reactions, a betrayal at the hands of the dalatrass wasn't unexpected after the summit. Words were shared, some more heated than they should have been. Payton rarely posed threats as a means to get her way, but she saw no other option. With both the primarch and Wrex on her side, it was a matter of convincing the dalatrass that extracting the krogan females was paramount to krogan and turian cooperation.

She fought; Payton fought back. And when the commander left the negotiation room, it was on the coattails of a subtle threat from the dalatrass herself.

For a moment, as Steve lowered the shuttle closer to the ground and she stepped off of it, Payton considered the possibility that they would meet resistance - perhaps violent resistance - due to the argument that closed the summit.

But these fears were quickly put at bay, moments after Payton guided Wrex back from the salarian standing at the front. He explained away the situation, about how they'd only received clearance after they arrived and not before. He rattled off an apology, but closed the statement with a surprisingly solid, "But he will have to stay here under guard. He's not allowed inside of the facility."

Payton could hear Wrex growl under his breath, but she nodded, speaking up before he could give the salarian a piece of his mind.

"Understood. Wrex, stay here and keep Cortez company. We won't be long."

"I've waited over a century for this to happen, Shepard." Wrex holstered his shotgun on his back, newly freed fingers pressing into the palm of his hand until the joints popped. "I'm getting tired of standing around."

She turned around, looking back at him with a small - and hopefully reassuring - smile. "We'll get your females out of here and back to Tuchanka."

"If they haven't killed them all," Wrex grumbled in return, pushing past Garrus and making his way down the short flight of stairs with his armed salarian guards. She could hear him speaking to them as they walked away. "Clan Urdnot will have fried salarian for weeks if I don't leave this planet with our women."

The two salarian guards seemed more offended than afraid.

"I'm... sorry about that," Payton said once her attention turned from Wrex to the salarian still standing in front of her. "He's very –"

"He's very krogan. I understand, commander; there's no need to apologize on his behalf." Extending an arm in the direction of the rest of the foyer, he finally offered his greeting. "I am senior research director Padok Wiks. If you have any questions before we go down to the lab, I'll answer them."

Stepping closer to him, Payton shook her head. "I don't have any questions for you. We need to get the females and leave as quickly as possible. I don't want to risk an incident by keeping Wrex here for any longer than necessary. You understand."

"Indeed I do," Padok said with a nod. "In that case, I'll be waiting near the elevator. When you're ready, find me, and I'll take you down."

She stopped momentarily to assure Wrex that the krogan females would be out of salarian hands and onto Tuchanka soil in no time, though the conversation devolved quickly when James interrupted with a request that they go toe-to-toe when everything was cleared up. The lieutenant's enthusiasm at seeing a krogan as old and powerful as Wrex in his natural habitat - threatening those weaker than him with a shotgun and a flare of biotics - was obvious, and the krogan replied to the request with a simple, "Maybe later. You should get some tips from Shepard in the meantime. She faced me on Virmire and lived to tell the tale."

"Without a shot fired," Garrus piped up from behind them, too busy tweaking the settings on his omni-tool to devote his full attention to their chat. "If you don't count all those poor, defenseless fish."

Wrex laughed at that. "I never liked diplomacy. Too much talking, not enough action. But it's useful, if you don't want to get your face smashed in. You should take a page or five out of Shepard's book, Vega. You've got too much mouth to make it in a fight against me."

"The commander's the one who talks too much," James teased, leaning heavily on the crate at his side and shooting a lopsided smile in Payton's direction.

The krogan grumbled in thought before looking in her direction. "Nah, she talks just enough, and she's survived so far." Payton arched a brow, and Wrex chuckled. "Sort of."

"I'm glad you find it amusing, Wrex."

"Hah! What _I'm_ glad for is that you came back, Shepard. Nobody besides the krogan cares enough about our well-being to help us with this. We appreciate it."

Payton reached out and gave Wrex a pat on his shoulder. "Anyone who doesn't acknowledge that having the krogan on our side is worth a few bumps in the road isn't worth following anyway," she said. And that was the truth in her eyes. Shrugging off enemies due to muddy pasts was a bad move, both on a diplomatic and a strategic standpoint. When facing an enemy like the Reapers, you needed everyone, no matter their scars.

Wrex smiled his distinctly krogan smile and jerked his head in the direction of the elevator. "Get your ass down there and get my women," he told her. "We need to get this cure on its feet."

She agreed. Finding the means to create a cure for the genophage was as imperative to relations with the krogan as the krogan were crucial to forming an army that could go against the Reapers. One step was needed to reach the other. So she turned and made her way in the direction of the elevator.

Padok stood there, waiting for her, his attention captured by something across the way until she cleared her throat. Swaying on his feet, he turned towards her with a, "Right. Give me a moment."

Clearance was given to them after he gave his name and identification number, watching the beam of light scan over Shepard's features. He smiled to himself when her brow furrowed and creases formed in the skin around her eyes at the intrusive brightness.

While he wasn't as frantic as she remembered Mordin being, he was just as animated, if not more. His discussion of Sur'Kesh and the wildlife found around the facility ran even longer than he'd anticipated, and he was still telling her about one of the many different species of carnivorous plants when the elevator's door slid open to reveal the lab.

"Activity on the perimeter." A familiar voice broke through Padok's, stopping the younger salarian short. His words were clipped, and Shepard knew who spoke immediately. There could be no mistaking him for someone else. "Facility would have been alerted if you knew when to shut up."

Payton brightened when she saw Mordin step up in front of the elevator, his omni-tool already glowing on his arm. She knew that expression - the serious, determined one he wore when someone was getting in the way of the timely completion of his task. He sighed, holding out his hand and wriggling his fingers, a gesture for Payton to follow him. "Messy situation, quickly becoming messier. The voices picked up in the signal are human. Vessels likely Cerberus."

"What's Cerberus doing here?" she asked, stepping around Padok to fall into stride with her former squad member. "Why would they want to stop this from happening? The genophage doesn't concern them."

"Destroyed Collector base," Mordin reminded her, though he knew she hadn't forgotten. "Vendetta, maybe? Genophage cure could potentially be used as leverage. Krogan army would be a very large and dangerous bargaining chip, should they fall into the Illusive Man's hands."

Garrus huffed. "It's a ballsy move," he murmured as he tagged behind the two of them. "Though the Illusive Man's never lacked a pair."

"Or two," Mordin chimed in. "Perhaps three, depending on the line of thought."

"I didn't expect to see you here," Payton said as they descended the stairwell that led to the main set of consoles. "Are you back with the STG permanently?"

"Nothing permanent. Especially not now."

Padok hurried out in front of her to speak to one of the officers, causing her to stop in her tracks and look around. The lab was familiar; no matter what planet she landed on, no matter what species the lab belonged to, everything always looked so similar. It was sleek and metallic and dimly lit, lined with shelves and computer consoles, omni-boards that glowed orange and blue, projections of life signs and other research. And Mordin was at the very center of it. She wasn't sure why she'd been surprised.

"Working as a consultant. Many variables to potential cure, many issues with Maelon's research." Taking a sharp breath through his nose, his fingers splayed over the console in front of another containment pod. Only when he began working near to it did Payton realize what stood behind the shield. "Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong."

"How long have you been here working on the cure?" Payton asked as she stepped up next to him, eyes narrowed at the work he was doing. She couldn't understand any of it. Science had never been her strongest point, but she could barely wrap her head around this.

He looked over at her, though his fingers never slowed down. He kept going, kept typing, even as his voice lowered to a whisper. "Months. Have been leaking information to Clan Urdnot. Friend of yours. Urdnot Wrex. Interesting krogan. Did you know he writes poetry?"

"None of it is very good."

Payton glanced up towards the containment pod, pulled away from Mordin by the deeply resonant voice of the krogan female. She'd seen many krogan in her lifetime, but she'd never laid eyes on any that could be described as 'mystical.' Perhaps it was the fact that she wasn't male, not a mercenary in scorched armor or a thug. Or maybe it was her voice - the underlying music of it that snatched her attention and _made_ her listen.

"Still surprising. Was unaware that krogan were capable of creativity, no matter how... mm, violent." Leaning away from the console, he motioned for Payton to follow him again. "Need to get krogan off planet. Already contacted Joker; need to move, to keep her safe."

"Where are the others?"

"Ah, yes, the others." Mordin shook his head. "Dead. Unfortunate side effect of Maelon's research. No thought to their immune systems; dangerous work. Ultimately effective, but dangerous. Krogan female is only subject left."

James was standing in front of the containment pod when he spoke up. He didn't look away, brow furrowed, clearly trying to wrap his head around the situation. "What about her? You can make a cure with just one krogan?"

"I am not just one krogan," the female said, voice even and lacking any inflection of annoyance.

"Immune to genophage. She is the key to the cure."

"And the last hope for the krogan species," Payton murmured, quietly enough that no one but Mordin could hear. He nodded his agreement, watching as Payton lifted her fingers to her ear. "Steve, I'm sending you the coordinates for the extraction. We need to get off of this planet ASAP."


	12. Chapter 12

Cerberus was relentless.

Years ago, she'd faced them in base after base – scientist and operative alike – but she'd never come across them in such a huge number. Even on Mars, with soldiers thick on the ground, they were spread out over the facility's levels, dispersed over the metallic sprawl for kilometers. Some were there that she never met; they never threatened her. The squads were sent out through the facility to find what Cerberus was looking for, to get rid of the Alliance forces.

On Sur'Kesh, they had only one heading. They had to find the krogan on the orders of their cell's head. That meant diverting the commander, throwing every trooper they had at her squad and the containment pod in an attempt to wrest the immune female right out of their hands.

Shepard fought Cerberus before. Years were spent wiping out every cell of the organization she could find if the mission's parameters were loose enough that she wouldn't be brought under court martial for her actions. And when she joined the crew of the Normandy, she had no idea that would only lead to more run-ins with Cerberus. She didn't know she'd be going right up against them time and again. She didn't know she'd run into Toombs.

But then that same organization brought her back, brought life back to charred muscle and broken bones and a too-long-dead brain, and gave her what she needed to _help_.

The Illusive Man gave her no reason to trust him, and at first, she gave him no quarter. Miranda and Jacob received similar treatment. But things changed. There were colors to Cerberus alongside the typical black and gold. Miranda wasn't her uniform or her resume. She was soft shades of peach and vibrant blue; she was the love she had for her sister and her freely admitted self-doubts. Everything about Jacob was rich shades of brown and orange. He was friendship and companionship; and for a brief moment during their mission, even more than that.

And no matter how much she hated the thought – the Illusive Man was as white as he was black and every shade of gray in between.

So when Payton voiced her disbelief, Garrus didn't seem as surprised as he might have when their friendship was still new. When her throaty, "Why are they _here_?" finally left the air between the three of them, it was James who spoke up.

"You've obviously pissed off the Illusive Man," he said, brusque and slightly out of breath, rolling back onto his heels before vaulting over the low ledge. He hit the ground on the other side and began picking through the bodies for heat sinks and medigel. "It's not like they've got a good reputation with you. Why are you surprised they're eager to shoot you in the back?"

"Because the Illusive Man doesn't want to kill me." Garrus held out a hand, and she took it, letting him boost her up to her full height. "I don't think they're here on his orders."

Garrus made a contemplative sound in his throat. James, however, still wasn't buying it. Shoving a few spare heat sinks into the belt around his waist, he twisted his head enough to peer over his shoulder at her. "You've gotta be kidding me. This reeks of the Illusive Man. Of course he'd use the genophage cure to get the krogan to side with him. It's not like he'd make any alien friends without some heavy handed manipulation. They all hate him."

"I've seen his work. He's subtle. This isn't subtle." Garrus looked up from his omni-tool when he interrupted James' stream of though. If Cerberus was going to throw everything they had at them, he was going to throw it right back, even if it meant recalibrating his omni-tool on the fly. "They're messy. Probably some cell trying to get in the Illusive Man's good graces. I can't imagine how bad they screwed up if 'cure the genophage' is the first thing they thought of when the topic of 'how to make amends' was brought up in the bi-monthly terrorist meeting."

Payton nodded. "Exactly. The Illusive Man wouldn't want to be caught at the helm of something like this. Every time Cerberus has screwed up, it's never been on his hands. He makes sure of that."

"Sounds like an even bigger asshole than I thought."

"No. Sounds like a genius," she replied, licking at her lips and casting one last look around the room. Twenty corpses, give or take, littered the ground among blown out bits of armor and blood that coated the stone tiles, thick and black. "He knows his limits. And he knows he's better at talking than taking action. That's important."

James didn't say a word. Slowly, he was learning when to shut up. Sometimes he got it wrong. Sometimes he miscalculated, and it took something like that to snap him back into place.

This time, it was Garrus who said the obvious.

"To be fair, that doesn't make him any less of an asshole."

"It makes this complicated, then, does it?" James asked, bouncing a pack of medigel in his palm before tucking it right above his ammo belt.

He only looked up when he felt Payton whisk right past him in the direction of the elevator. "No," she said again, swiping her hand over the panel before stepping in. "I don't care why they're here. They're a threat to this mission, and they're hostile. Their intentions don't matter."

The two followed her into the elevator and up to the next floor. Floor after floor, they met resistance. Troopers and snipers and engineers, all of them fighting with assault rifle and turret, with tooth and nail. The salarian facility was difficult to navigate without help, and no one in the squad had ever so much as seen the floor plan. All they had was the spotty connection to Padok Wiks Garrus managed to hook up and Payton's innate sense of direction.

Wiks was holding off the main foyer with a handful of the STG stationed there, and after a bit of prying, he let it slip that there were other groups of guards stationed around the facility reporting no damage. The attack was concentrated. They knew what they wanted. And if she wasn't fast enough, they'd get it.

Two floors after the first, they ran into another familiar face, though she only pinpointed the salarian after he'd managed to kill a Cerberus troop with his bare hands.

"Captain Kirrahe?"

The disbelief in her voice was what kept his weapon holstered. He looked to her with an open-mouthed smile before extending his hand. She took it, the firm handshake bringing a thankful smile to her own face.

"Major Kirrahe," he corrected her before nodding towards Garrus and then James. "When I got word that you were here, I was going to go up and say hello. Glad I didn't. There's too much ground to cover. It's good to know you're here. We need to get the krogan female off Sur'Kesh."

"Agreed. I'm on my way up to help Mordin with that very thing." She paused when she heard voices on the other side of the wall. More Cerberus troops were filing in through the back. "Are you wounded? We have medigel to spare."

Kirrahe waved her off. "I'm fine. My shields don't hold in close quarters, so I took a few hits. But my armor's the best, and medigel doesn't heal bruises." Before she could say a word edgewise, he leaned around the corner just enough to see what they were up against. The Cerberus soldiers were too busy watching the engineer program his turret to see him. He slid back into place, eyes almost bright when he relayed his plan to her. "Flank them. I'll keep their attention, and you'll be there before they even realize it. Stay low. They're incredibly stupid for armed forces."

Payton nodded, hugging as close to the wall as she could as she watched Kirrahe jump out into plain sight. The Cerberus troops started shouting. They started shooting. And they only stopped for a moment when Kirrahe fired his pistol, loosing out a handful of cluser grenades that dug into the troops' armor.

The three were pressed up against the lab's low partition when they heard the explosion, when one of the troops flew backwards, hitting the wall to the right of them and crashing down into one of the many desks. A moment's inspection of the awkward positioning of his neck was all they needed to know he was dead, and they popped out of cover.

James unloaded a clip from his assault rifle into the turret, knocking down its shields without trouble, and Payton threw a grenade of her own out onto the floor. It clinked on the stone, skidded, rolled, and then stopped at the engineer's feet. Before he could roll to safety, the explosion lit up the area and tore through his legs, leaving him screaming and utterly useless.

Another turret cropped up soon after, positioned behind a corner. The angle was just perfect enough to reveal a shot at James even from his position half behind the partition. His own shields were gone before he realized where the fire was coming from. Fire from the turret dug into his armor, bolts burying themselves into the layers before Garrus overloaded it.

"Shit," James ground out, reflex driving the shoulder of his left arm into the wall. He still held his rifle, still stood his ground, but he hadn't expected anything to get through. He could feel a familiar warm stick absorbing into the lining of his armor. Growling under his breath, he hitched his rifle up until the barrel rested on the wall, eyes narrowed to get a better shot at the trooper running towards Garrus.

Payton took down the second turret with a blow from her Mantis, but adrenaline and sudden concern for her squad kept her from making sure the combustion made quick work of the second engineer. "Are you hit?" she shouted, voice pitched above the fire that threatened to drown her out.

James didn't answer her; he was too focused on the task at hand and too set on ignoring the hit to respond.

Uttering a quiet, "damnit," under her breath, she looked back to the troopers just as Garrus felled the final one. There was blood everywhere, the sight punctuated by the smell of charred muscle and melted metal.

She shoved her sniper rifle aside before turning to James.

"You get shot," Payton began, grabbing for his wrist with her right hand and tugging it forward. He hissed when she jarred the wound. "You tell me. You answer me when I ask you if you're okay. Got it?"

James worked his jaw. "It was a graze."

"A graze that kept you from holding your damn weapon properly," she snapped at him, the orange light from her omni-tool blooming to life. Scanning over the bolt-scored armor covering her bicep, the readout proved that it was, in fact, a graze. "If you're hit, answer me. I don't care if it's a graze or if you're bleeding out. Answer me."

"I understand, commander." While that hadn't been the response she expected, her grip on his wrist loosened, and she dug her fingers into the pouch that held his medigel close to his armor. "Adrenaline."

Payton shook her head as she tore the packet open with her teeth. Carefully applying a small amount of the gel to the tear in his armor, her eyes narrowed slightly. "Machismo. And don't try to tell me otherwise. I've been with the Alliance since you were in middle school. I know marines."

No one laughed outright at her comment, especially not James. Garrus was too busy getting into the doorway leading up to the top floor to do more than chuckle. While he didn't feel chastised, James was more concerned with not prompting that kind of response again than protecting his ego. And Payton hadn't meant for her words to be humorous.

Instead of lingering, she folded the packet carefully and tucked it back into the pouch, grabbing for her rifle and heading towards the door.

James fought even harder after that. Whether it was because of his wounded pride or a restored feeling of togetherness borne of her concern, she didn't know. But that didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that they continued to tear through the waves of Cerberus enemies. What mattered was helping Mordin pass every checkpoint without the krogan female taking any damage.

On occasion, her shields were knocked down while she lined up a shot, but not once did either of them let her take anything more than surface damage to her bulky armor. They fought through smoke bombs, holding their breath and blinking against the painful burn.

The numbers grew in place of the destroyed engineers, and when they finally reached the roof of the facility, the Cerberus cell held nothing back.

Two waves of men and women hit them only to be thrust back. Garrus' sniper rifle eventually ran too hot, forcing him to replace the weapon with his assault rifle, but he barely gave pause before doing so. And when a mech was dropped from high above, he was glad for the change of pace.

Payton struggled at such close range, pulling up her cloak to line up a shot into the Atlas' window as James and Garrus made scrap out of its legs. Each time she took a shot and the cloak fizzled out, she was forced back into cover when the mech launched a missile in her direction. She was panting by the time the mech's heavy footsteps stopped, the tell-tale clicking and hissing of an oncoming explosion prompting her to slide down even farther against cover and shut her eyes.

After the smoke, billowing and black, cleared away into no more than wisps from the machine's massive corpse, Payton opened her eyes to see Mordin smiling at her from inside of the containment pod.

"Impressive," he said, voice filtered over the system and given a mechanical twang. "Don't remember ever seeing you flinch, though."

In the background, she could hear James laughing. The sound was more relieved than amused, though it didn't lack any of the latter. Rubbing over her face with a gloved hand, she boosted herself up onto her feet again. "I wasn't flinching. It was a safety precaution."

"Mm, yes, of course."

"It _was_."

Garrus stepped up to her right. "I don't think he believes you, Shepard."

Shrugging them off, she moved out in front of the krogan female instead, a tiny smile carving a line into the skin beside her mouth. "I'm glad to see you both managed to get out of this safely," she told her just as the containment pod's protective shield dropped. "I'm glad I could help."

"You're interesting to watch, commander. Though I do wonder how you were able to control Wrex on the battlefield."

"By not trying to control him at all," Payton chuckled.

Said krogan was "guiding" her out of the way a moment later, eager to put distance between him and Sur'Kesh. Even more eager to get the last remaining immune female of his species to Tuchanka. He'd heard the comment as clear as day, offering a low-pitched laugh of his own as he extended a hand to help the female off of the pod. "She couldn't."

"Hm. Wouldn't, I imagine," the female replied, glancing at Payton with slight incline of her head.

Wrex huffed, and Payton bit her lip to keep from grinning.

So the old krogan battlemaster had met his match.

"Should get off of Sur'Kesh. Cerberus may attack twice. Facility being evacuated in case," Mordin said, hand gripping at Payton's upper arm to begin guiding the group towards the Kodiak. "Kirrahe sent a message. Giving you his STG unit."

Payton's brows rose. "Really?"

"No unit to give if they stay here. Have to evacuate." He let go of her and stepped up into the shuttle, turning around and watching as the others followed. The tips of his fingers tapped together impatiently, though he didn't seem half as ready to get off of the planet as Cortez.

The pilot winced inwardly as the shuttle dipped under the weight of the two krogan, but they were in the air just after the doors closed, leaving the salarian facility and a fresh set of questions behind them.

They were packed into the shuttle nearly shoulder to shoulder, but even that didn't stop her from turning towards James. Mordin sat in the seat next to Steve, looking over the shuttle's specs curiously. Garrus stood next to Wrex, and the krogan female was sitting down between the group of four.

"How's your arm?" she asked, voice pitched low to keep from disturbing anyone else. James tilted his chin down to look at his arm, the other lifted up and holding onto one of the bars running parallel on both sides of the shuttle.

"It's good," was his reply. Simple, but not brusque. "Told you it was just a graze."

Payton narrowed her eyes at the hole in his armor before she turned them up towards his face, intense blue fading into something softer. "And I told you it didn't matter."

"My arm's fine, Shepard," James murmured, a line forming between his brows when they furrowed a little. "Thanks for asking."

"Don't let it happen again."

He chuckled. The sound was rough, aided by a twist of his lips. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing and putting favorites/alerts on this fic! It really does mean the world to me. Every bit of feedback helps along the writing process.

Also, I wanted to say that this fic isn't following the exact line of events. Some things you may want to see might not be included, though I'm trying to fit in the characters that crop up in-game as best I can. So if there's a certain interaction you wanted to see and I didn't include it, I'm sorry. I'm trying not to use any dialogue from the game. And if I do, I'll work around it to make it my own. Following the game word for word just doesn't really interest me. So if you wanted to see something and I didn't write it, I apologize! Just trying to put my spin on things. :) Thank you again!


	13. Chapter 13

"I have an urgent matter to discuss, as well," Primarch Victus told her, casting a furtive glance in Wrex's direction. "A matter of galactic importance."

Wrex's request of her attention was still fresh when Victus dropped the words he knew Payton needed to hear in order to go to him first. It was the truth, but there the turian's manipulation was less than subtle. While she could see that much, she couldn't play favorites when something so large might be at stake.

Payton's index fingers tapped on the edge of the table, blunt nails clicking quietly against the surface, before she pushed away from it and them. She took a step back, jerking her chin in the direction of the war room.

"We can talk. I know you'll want your privacy."

"I'm sure he will," Wrex said, his voice barely more than a grumble.

No matter how hard she worked towards facilitating peace between the turians and the krogan, Wrex and Victus were still at each others throats. Though not literally, which said a lot for the strides Wrex was taking to become a consummate leader. He was handling the situation with what could be mistaken for grace if you turned your head and squinted enough.

But everyone wanted to speak to her. Every matter that was brought to her in person, sent to her through her messages, or dropped onto her desk on a datapad was urgent. Everything was important. Every missing artifact could change the tide of the war. Every conversation held the potential to destroy their campaign.

She couldn't prioritize when everything was so important. Lives were always at stake, no matter what she chose to pursue first.

This war couldn't be a game of numbers.

"I'll talk to you in a few minutes," she said, interrupting the tension creating a fissure that split the room in half. "Whatever it is you want will come first, _if_ I consider it as vital as you obviously do."

Victus knew he wouldn't get any better out of her without divulging the mission's details right there, so he left without another word, leaving Payton standing in front of Wrex with an apologetic look on her face.

He wasn't pleased. She couldn't imagine being happy in that situation, either. Being ousted by what might have been sensationalism stung.

"So," Wrex said, armored fingers scratching beneath his crest. "Getting shafted for the turian. I can't say I was expecting that, Shepard."

"Mordin is working with... Eve," Payton explained, working around the name Mordin 'gave' the female krogan. "I've helped you once already. If I jumped on board with whatever you need without even asking the primarch what the matter is - I can't do that. I need to know what's going on. If it's as important as it sounds, you might even be thanking me."

Wrex leaned heavily on the table, arms bowed and his neck shifting downwards beneath the weight of his hump. "It's the rachni."

"Excuse me?"

"I sent a scouting party to check something out near the rachni relay a while back. The second they got there, they went dark." His tone was casual, but there was nothing at ease about his posture or the look in his eyes. "So if you want to check that out or go talk to the primarch and see what he wants, that's your call."

There was a silent _but it's on you _that hung between them the moment Wrex went quiet. It was unavoidable, though Payton wasn't sure whether the words were coming from him or within the confines of her head.

She couldn't press more information out of him. He wouldn't budge; the animosity he held towards the primarch was the line in the sand. If she crossed it, if she asked him more about the mission at hand, there would be no stepping back across. Once she knew more, the Normandy would be flying in the direction of whatever planet Wrex's team was lost on.

So she stepped back.

She stepped back and turned around and made her way in the direction of the war room.

When Adrien Victus heard even, if heavy, footsteps on the floor behind him, he turned away from the console to find himself face to face with just the woman he'd hoped would be standing there. The fact that she managed to delay the talk with Wrex in order to speak to him was nothing short of admirable. Then again, he'd only expected otherwise from her briefly. He had no reason to doubt how close to her chest she held this cause. Nothing was more important to her at this juncture.

He had a list of accomplishments a mile long, most of them military, and he understood hard calls. He understood how rough it was to choose one path over the other as if he had the step-by-step instructions for doing so seared at the back of his eyes.

But it was never that easy, especially when friendships were thrown into the mix. Victus had chosen both paths at different times in his life, lost people close to him; he didn't envy her.

"The Normandy has set a course for Tuchanka, hasn't it?" he asked, planting his feet on the ground and grasping his wrist behind his back. When she replied with an affirmative, he nodded. "I was hoping you would say that. The news I have for you requires you land there as soon as possible."

"The news...?"

Victus cleared his throat, mandibles flaring. "There's a missing platoon planetside. Retrieving them is of the utmost importance."

"So you've said," Payton replied, slowly. Delicately; suspiciously. One brow furrowed deeper than the other, her head tilted to the side. "What's this mission? What's a platoon of turian military doing on Tuchanka?"

He opened his mouth to explain the delicacy of the situation, but she wasn't finished. "And why doesn't Wrex know about this? I would imagine this is something he'd be aware of."

Victus' hand tightened around his wrist, talons pressing into the fabric of his sleeve. "I'm afraid it's classified."

"I know what classified means, general."

There was a vague shift in his face plates. She could decipher the surprise even through his turian features. Even that didn't give her an upper hand on the conversation, though, and she knew better than to suspect such. Instead, he gave his head a shake. "I'm sorry, commander, but classified means classified in this situation."

"Classified means there's something the turian military is doing on Tuchanka that it shouldn't be."

"The krogan don't give us reason to believe they would allow us to operate alongside them." His words were clipped, leaving him in quick succession. "Not yet, at least. I'm grateful for your attempts at proving otherwise, though Urdnot Wrex leaves something to be desired in a diplomat."

Payton breathed out a quiet sigh before nodding to herself. "Yes, he does, but he has enough of a reason to distrust your people. I'll go. I'll find this platoon of yours, and I'll report back. But I'll find out the truth."

She was gone just after, hurrying up the stairs the moment he told her that he would send the coordinates through EDI. Even at the sound of a quiet, "I'm sure you will," at her back, she didn't slow down.

When she did stop, it was at the security check, and she nodded towards the privates standing at their post before venturing forward. For once, Specialist Traynor had nothing for her. No messages, no assignments, no secret Cerberus posting outside of council space. She'd have time to breathe before reaching Tuchanka.

The choice of where to go seemed to be made for her. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep; they didn't have time enough for her to close her eyes, much less do any more than nap. And taking Mordin up on the invitation to visit and speak with Eve was still present in her mind.

So she went down to the medbay instead of taking the elevator up to her cabin.

There was already a conversation going on when the door slid open in front of her. Mordin was seated in Chakwas' chair, shoulders bent forward to make up for the drastic change in height and the angle of her terminal's screen. Eve was close at hand, seated with her legs swung over the side of the table, watching Mordin carefully. But it was James who was talking, stripped to the waist as Chakwas applied another coat of medigel to his skin before applying a bandage.

"I haven't treated an actual wound in what feels like ages," the doctor told him, hand smoothing around the bulk of his bicep. "It seems like all I treat is exhaustion these days."

"It was a _graze_," James countered, voice solid despite the almost sleepy look on his face. "Told ya it was a graze."

Chakwas looked up at him, her hands stilling, wearing an expression of resigned disbelief. "I had to remove the bolt, lieutenant."

"Told you it was more than a graze."

Both James and Chakwas turned around at the sound of the commander's voice. The former huffed and rolled his eyes, but the latter smiled. "I'm glad to see that there's still someone with above average intelligence on the field, Shepard."

"I don't think James' ego makes him any less intelligent," Payton replied with a small smile, crossing the floor to stand at the doctor's side. "After shoving pills down Jeff's throat for years, you should know the difference between being stubborn and being plain old stupid."

"Yeah, thanks," James said, though he didn't seem appreciative in the least. "Great discussion to have with me sitting right here."

The two women didn't pay him any mind, though Payton glanced for a moment in his direction, the corner of her mouth still curled upwards. "How's the arm, doctor? Will he live to fight again?"

"Hey."

Chakwas chuckled. "He's ready for action, commander. Luckily, the bolt didn't do any direct damage."

"I told you it was a –"

"Graze. Right."

Stepping away from her patient, Chakwas turned back towards the table at her side. She lifted up a shallow tray and held it in front of him. They all looked down at the sliver of shaved metal and streaks of blood that lay inside. "If that's from a graze, I'm surprised you're still alive, lieutenant."

"Thank you for looking after him," Payton said, taking the tray out of her hands and placing it back on the table. "Do you think we could have a moment? I smelled coffee in the mess when I passed by. You should go get a cup."

"Mm, that's a good idea. I could use some of Cordova's blend right now."

Payton smiled a little wider, resting her hand on Chakwas' shoulder before nudging her in the direction of the door. "That's good because I'm certain I saw him standing behind the counter."

The doctor was off in no time, leaving Payton standing in front of an almost smug looking James. "What?"

"'Thank you for looking after him,' huh? You realize she's the ship's doctor, right?"

Payton's brow furrowed. "Of course I do."

"That's her job."

"I don't understand where you're going with this," she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other before looking away from his face. Eve was watching her now instead of Mordin, curiously instead of carefully. "Why does it matter that I thanked her? It's polite."

James laughed, leaning back on the table on his good arm. When she looked back at him, she stared into his eyes again, pointedly avoiding looking anywhere else. "You don't have to be coy, Lola. You were all worried about me."

"Of course I was worried about you," she said plainly. "You're part of my squad. We were on a sensitive mission, and you were wounded. Why would I be anything else but concerned?"

"On Sur'Kesh, yeah, but we're safe and sound now."

He could see the muscles in Payton's jaw twitch, and it only made him grin wider.

"Maybe I came down here to tell you that you're not going to be part of the next mission," she told him, chin tilting upwards as if she knew she'd won.

That thought was quickly cast aside the moment he opened his mouth. "Nah, you were just checkin' up on me."

"I wasn't here to see _you_. I came to speak to Mordin."

"Then why aren't you?" James pursed his lips and glanced in the direction of the salarian doctor. Mordin was still working, even through quick glances in their direction. "He's right there."

Payton wanted to glare at him. It wasn't as if she was lying about her intentions. She'd come to the medbay to talk to Mordin and Eve. Aside from being distracted, she still intended to speak to the doctor. But she had been distracted. He had pulled her attention in his direction, and she _had_ been concerned about the injury...

As hard as she tried, she couldn't so much as narrow her eyes at him. She couldn't glare or grimace or even go so far as to slug him in his arm for teasing her.

To her surprise, she heard a familiar chuckle. It took her a moment to recognize it as her own.

"Shut up."

"Is that an order, commander?"

Payton opened her mouth to respond, but snapped it shut when she realized he was laughing at her. Or was it with her, now that there was a distinct ring of amusement in her voice? Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "We'll be on Tuchanka in a few hours. Will you be fit for duty?"

James sat up straighter, but only for a moment. Planting his hand on the table between his knees, he leaned forward slightly. "I will be if you stop avoiding the question."

"What question?"

"Do you want me to stop?" Despite the sudden seriousness in his voice, there was a bright light in his hazel eyes. "You were right when you said that to Chakwas. I'm not fucking stupid. If you want me to shut up, I'll shut up."

She paused, and for a moment, James thought she might be considering the answer. No one ever thought about the answer to those kinds of questions. If the answer was a positive one, it came bubbling out of the person every single time.

He didn't know that she was looking over his face, trying to decide whether or not he was serious. He teased; it was in his nature. She'd interrupted many light-hearted conversations between him and Steve. The sudden - and obvious - friendship between him and Garrus was indicative of how easy it was for just about anyone to trip and fall into the honey trap that was James Vega.

Payton considered many people on the Normandy her friends. Some of those friendships were years old, some were new. She already considered herself close to Steve, even after only a few conversations in the shuttle bay. And then, on the other side of the spectrum, was Liara, who she couldn't imagine life without. She wasn't afraid of getting close to her subordinates. She wasn't afraid of making friends. She was, however, afraid of that flirty lilt to his voice.

"I'm pretty sure that's the medigel injection talking, James," she replied quietly. A tiny hitch of a smile slipped, but the corners of her mouth fell back into a gentle, curved line just after. "We both know you can't shut up."

"Can't. Don't wanna." Instead of pressing the subject, he grabbed for his t-shirt and tugged it over his head. "But whatever. I'll get an answer out of you eventually."

Payton wet her lips, stepping back to give him enough room to get down from the examination table. He smoothed his hand over his hair and looked around, his back towards her, but then turned around. They were standing close and would have been eye-to-eye if not for the downward tilt of her chin. He lingered there only briefly before brushing past her.

He nearly made it out of the medbay when he heard his name. Not shouted; said, just loud enough to get his attention.

"It wasn't an order," she explained when he turned back around to face her. He stood there in the doorway, regarding her again, before nodding. That same almost-cocky grin was back, and Payton didn't mind it at all. "We'll be on Tuchanka in a few hours. EDI will alert you when we're on the approach. I expect you to have you to be fully armored and waiting by the time we're ready to leave."

"Yes, ma'am," James said. The teasing air was gone from his voice. Even his smile seemed more genuine. Everything was simpler that way, from where Payton was standing. But then he opened his mouth, and the illusion was shattered. "See, Lola? Was that so hard?"

But instead of glaring, she found herself chuckling again, waving him off before turning towards the reason she'd come to the medbay in the first place. He was watching her, studying her expression and what had transpired in a way she easily recognized.

"Still very bad at that, Shepard," Mordin hummed to himself. "Figured you would be better at it by now."

Payton arched a brow, arms folded over her chest. "Better at what?"

"Conversation," he explained. "Talking to men." His fingers tapped over Chakwas' desk as quiet settled around them. All that could be heard was the almost silent hum of the ship and the clicking of Mordin's fingers over the metallic surface. "Could give you pointers, if you're interested."

"I think I'll pass," Payton said with an embarrassed chuckle. "Now... about this cure."


	14. Chapter 14

Answers to the turian presence on Tuchanka came hidden in the form of more questions during the first of Primarch Victus' missions. They came in the shape of a bomb, in the form of Victus' son, Tarquin, and his misbegotten tactics.

Garrus was there to lay down insightful comments, to explain exactly how far the Primarch was digging himself by promoting his clearly incompetent son. But there was only so much he could explain away. Even Garrus didn't know why there was a platoon of turian soldiers on Tuchanka. Things weren't adding up. To people used to bending over backwards to piece a situation together, the fact that nothing fit now rubbed them the wrong way.

Tarquin Victus' first words to them were about a bomb – a Cerberus bomb. He didn't mention his failed mission; in a tone that spoke of a struggle to maintain self-control, he voiced concern for his men. "They're probably dead," he told her, "but if they aren't, could you help them?"

The fighting was rough. While they'd faced Reaper forces before, they were in unfamiliar territory, and the ground of Tuchanka was all dust and weathered stone that crumbled under too much weight. The piercing cries of Harvesters split through the thick air, grinding against ears that popped and hearing that faded in and out under the pressure. Husks came at them from all sides, clumsily vaulting over low ledges and flinging themselves in a desperate tangle from overhead. Even with the element of surprise on their side, Payton's squad was outnumbered ten to one at every turn.

There were survivors, turians that fought against Harvesters and quickly dissipating hope, and most of them made it back to Victus once they were given a way out. She even saved Tarquin himself, as well as the pathetic numbers he'd managed to pull to safety. And like any man after a defeat that would mean public humiliation at the very least, he told her he would pack up and head back to the fleet.

"You can't just _leave_, lieutenant." A few wounded turian soldiers glanced in Shepard's direction, attention torn between the blue blood on their hands and the harsh whisper of the human commander. "Cerberus can't have this bomb."

"I know," he said, exasperated. "I know. But they already have it. We're trying to take it back, and who knows how many troops they have on their side now that they know we're here. My men have lost enough. We can't take a direct approach with these numbers."

Payton refused to budge. She took a step forward instead, bringing them closer as her brows furrowed into almost-threatening arches. "They have a bomb that could detonate and ruin any chances of peace between the turians and the krogan. Do you know what that means?"

She didn't give him a chance to answer. He knew what she would say, but he didn't want to acknowledge the weight on his shoulders.

"Tuchanka _burns_. Palaven _burns_. And we're that much closer to losing this war."

The wrinkle above the bridge of her nose smoothed away, but the tension in her chest never eased. The fist around her throat didn't unfurl. "You have to do this. Your men have to do this. Tell them that. They can win this war for everyone in one fell swoop. Wouldn't they want that?"

In the end, she won out, and Tarquin asked her to accompany him on the frontal assault. Or, rather, his plan was for her to hit them out in the open, giving his squad time enough to sneak around the back to access the bomb. She was wary; his first attempt at stealth ended with most of his platoon blown to pieces. But she couldn't stall. She couldn't wait and figure out a better approach. They had to get to the bomb, disarm it, and get rid of the Cerberus presence before the krogan retaliated against more than just the Illuisve Man's troopers.

Once she was back on the ship, the Primarch thanked her for rescuing his son. Payton was quickly learning just how talented Victus was at avoiding the topic at hand. When she asked him about the bomb, he assured her it was on Cerberus' hands. When she asked him how he'd learned of the bomb's existence, he reminded her of the importance of the mission and how appreciative he was.

Again, she swore she'd find out what he wasn't telling her. And she did on the shuttle ride down to Tuchanka for the second mission.

If Victus knew his own son would have revealed the true nature of the bomb, he might have been more hesitant to facilitate constant contact between Tarquin and the Normandy's shuttle.

"What do you - the bomb is _turian_?"

"The bomb isn't just turian, commander. It's a failsafe, put here after the Krogan Rebellions."

James pulled himself onto his feet, wavering only slightly to acclimate himself to the constant, minor turbulence of Tuchanka's atmosphere. "So you mean the Primarch's just covering his ass?" He narrowed his eyes at the screen, at the video feed of Lieutenant Victus, standing only a step's length from Payton. "Of course he is. You knew he was, Shepard."

"He couldn't be honest with you," Tarquin was quick to add. "It wasn't an option. You're too close to the krogan, completely ignoring the fact that you have one with enough pull to start another war sitting on your ship."

"I understand." James shot a bewildered look in her direction, and Payton shook her head. "I wouldn't have done it myself, but I understand why he thought it was necessary. Whose bomb it is doesn't matter right now. Whether or not we get to it in time is what's important."

The shuttle arrived at the navpoint to the sound of explosions and a rain of rubble and dirt. Cerberus was adamant about protecting what was theirs, what they had claimed by superior intelligence or firepower or simply good timing. But she'd never seen them fight like this. They'd thrown dozens upon dozens of men at her before, but they'd never tried to blow her up. The surprise of it all even managed to get a flustered few curses out of Liara as the biotic hugged cover and attempted to pick troopers off with her SMG.

James had faced multiple enemies before. He'd been rushed by husked turians and batarians and humans, skilled Cerberus troops, and even Collectors. On more than one occasion, he'd been forced into cover, which made him feel more vulnerable than running through the thick of it. But he'd never encountered the deafening roar of each minor detonation, the shower of earth so thick he choked on almost every breath.

It was Payton who pushed them ahead, her mouth shielded by her helmet and the precision scope on her rifle allowing her to see through whatever the bombs kicked up once the air cleared somewhat. And even as the ground shook beneath her feet, she managed to grip onto the blocks of concrete protruding from the dirt to help her up yet another obstacle.

Both Liara and James were quiet once they'd passed the initial gauntlet. The former was content with regulating her breathing and checking her M-5 Phalanx for obstructions. The latter bit his tongue to keep from griping, cheeks streaked brown and red from dirt and exertion. He blinked time and again to clear his eyes and wished beyond reason that he hadn't neglected his helmet back in the armory.

The relative quiet between the three was broken some time later, after they'd crossed half of the stretch between the landing point and the bomb, and the one who broke it was Payton.

"If any of you have an idea why Cerberus would want this bomb, I'm listening."

She heard a quiet _huh_ from Liara over their comms. The sound was too hushed for her to pick up otherwise. "Cerberus has nothing obvious to gain from a war between the krogan and the turians." She hopped down to another steep incline downwards, carefully balancing herself until she was safe on the ground. "Unless this is an elaborate sleight of hand by the Illusive Man."

"But why? If he lets this bomb go off, he's shooting everything he's ever worked towards in the back of the head."

Liara stepped up next to Payton, brow arching slightly when their eyes met. "Is he?"

"What do you mean?"

"Human dominance," James muttered from behind them. "He wants human dominance. Sounds like he knows what's up with the Reapers, too. Or he thinks he does. What better time to strike than when everybody's weak?"

The asari nodded. "Everyone is rushing to protect themselves from the Reaper threat. They wouldn't see Cerberus coming. They _haven't_ seen them coming, as we've seen already."

"Are they planning on fighting the Reapers alone?" Payton asked, words rushing out of her with a sigh.

"The Illusive Man has never lacked for confidence, Shepard. He thinks he can control the Reapers, and he doesn't anticipate failure. He's also a man accustomed to juggling many projects at once. This is simply his day-to-day on a grander scale."

Approaching yet another half-collapsed corner, Payton leaned around it and found no one for the first time since landing on Tuchanka. "I can't believe this. This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. We can't control the Reapers. Anyone who gets close to them just gets –"

"Indoctrinated?" Liara interrupted.

"Do you think...?"

"I think it is a very strong possibility."

Payton stepped around the corner with a shake of her head. "No," she murmured. "He wouldn't. Every time he opens his mouth, humanocentric propaganda falls out of it. He wouldn't let the Reapers control him like that."

"I do not think the Reapers ask," Liara replied, her voice gone much quieter. "While I don't know much about the way they operate, the relationship between human and Reaper doesn't exactly seem symbiotic."

"So they just... get in your head and take over?" Payton glanced over her shoulder, watching as James caught up with them after picking through discarded Cerberus caches for heat sinks. "That's some creepy science-fiction shit right there."

Liara's chuckle sounded like little more than an unimpressed huff. "As I was saying, it is possible. We have to consider the fact that the Illusive Man may not be himself, and we have to stop him."

"I've been trying," Payton said. "How do you stop a man with an army and immeasurable resources? Even now, with the entire galaxy falling to pieces, he still has the men and the credits to organize something like this. While all I have is the Normandy and the people on it."

"You have the Alliance. You have bits and pieces of the Council. Commander Bailey of Citadel Security seems to like you well enough. You've begun negotiations with Aria and her mercenary friends from Omega. Jack is on your side, as is Kaidan." The corner of Liara's mouth quirked upwards. "I don't believe we're running in blind, Shepard. It's the Illusive Man who is underestimating the woman he's attacking."

That satisfied Payton for the time being. When Liara finished her pep talk with a quiet, "like many people do," as a subtle jab towards James, she actually found herself smiling, if only a little.

James didn't bother sticking up for himself. He knew Liara was well aware Payton threw the first punch and that they'd mended whatever it was between them as quickly as they could for the sake of "unit cohesion." So he pressed his lips together and followed the two of them, his Scimitar held in his arms, eyes peeled for whatever might try to surprise them from their six.

The fight continued after turning a few more corners. Whatever dilapidated building they stood within served as adequate cover for the three of them, and before they'd even dealt with the sentries on the ground, James focused fire on the Cerberus shuttle lifting off of the ground. Between two frag grenades and a stream of fire assisted by the biotic barrier Liara threw up around him to block bolts from the troopers, he was able to knock it far enough course. The front end of the shuttle rammed into a nearby building, and the smoke twisting out of its white and gold body turned to smoke and flames.

James let out an "OohRah!" that echoed over their hardsuit comm system when the shuttle crashed only a few yards later, pitching black smoke into the air. But even he, with the small victory burning adrenaline through his veins, knew better than to stick out of cover for too long in the face of approaching hostiles.

As Payton picked off a Cerberus engineer as he climbed the ladder towards Victus' location, she saw the turian turned away from the console he stood in front of. When she replaced the heat sink in her rifle, she did so with verve that might have been due to pride after hearing Tarquin's rumbled, "Impressive," at James' show.

Once the lieutenant's radio silence was broken, he explained the situation as best he could with his men being picked off all around him and gunfire ringing in his ears as he stood in the shadow of a bomb larger than most buildings.

"I'm trying to get through a Cerberus firewall, but I need more time."

"Time we have, or time we don't have?" Payton asked, voice raised to a shout more for her benefit than his. The obvious questions were always left to her, and the obvious weight that followed rested directly onto her lap.

There was a pause, just long enough for her to line up another shot and take it. A nearby trooper toppled forward when the armor banding around his shin was blown to pieces. Liara took the next shot – a precise blow to the top of his helmet with her pistol.

"Time we have, actually," Tarquin replied. "As long as you keep Cerberus off of me, I can do this."

"You heard the LT, people!"

James vaulted over the low cover and dug down behind the closest thing obscuring Cerberus fire. "Get Cerberus off his ass. Everybody wins." Thumbing out the pin stuck through another grenade, he leaned out of cover and tossed it in the direction of a cluster of Centurions. They'd seen him take position, however, and his kinetic shields were kicked down in no time.

Before he could slide back to where he'd been kneeling moments before, James saw a bright blue disc of energy connect with the trooper wielding an assault rifle. The man flew backwards, crunching into a concrete wall, no longer a threat to anyone.

"Thanks, Doc," he breathed out during the moment he took to let his shields regenerate.

"Mhm."

James was a breath away from making another comment when he heard something akin to an explosion behind him. Except it wasn't an explosion, judging by the reaction he heard from Liara. If her cry of, "Atlas!" wasn't telling enough, the missile that cut through the air above his head, whizzing but otherwise silent, until it hit – and subsequently destroyed – the cover Payton had been standing behind.

The sudden surge of concern that hit him eased as quickly as it was born when he heard her familiar voice in his ear, not soothing or in pain but crisp and barking out orders. "James, it's only a few yards out. Find better cover, and use your shotgun. Liara – SMG. And keep tearing it apart."

Without another word, Payton threw up her cloak and climbed over the rubble of her former haven, rubble crunching beneath her boots as she jumped down onto the ground. There was enough cover around the area to stay hidden, but that wasn't her real goal.

Once she was far enough away from the mech, she fired a plasma round in its direction, and her cloak fizzled to reveal her location. Two shots were fired into its back from her slow-moving Mantis before the Atlas was able to turn around, slow and unwieldy. It was just long enough for her cloak to recharge, but she hesitated. She waited until James gave her the go-ahead to send out another plasma round. The shot was followed by a concentrated blow from James' shotgun, culminating in an explosion that sent the mech shuddering.

With the Atlas stunned momentarily, Payton threw up her cloak again and moved farther away from all of them. She could hear each frustrated noise Tarquin made, her distance from the mech's heavy footfalls giving her a heightened sense of clarity. "You okay up there, Lieutenant?"

Pressing her back against one of the many pylons that dotted the area, she craned her neck to look in Tarquin's direction. He was still at the console, hands flying over the controls. "The firewall's almost down," he told her, a tremor running through his voice that sounded like nerves. "A few minutes. Long enough for you to get rid of that mech."

"Just... hurry up," Payton breathed, pressing the back of her helmet against the concrete. "You can do this."

"I can." His statement, no doubt a murmured attempt to rouse his spirits, sounded more like a question than a fact. The second time the words passed his lips, however, he seemed more sure of himself. "I _can_."

Payton knew he was capable of it. Desperation drove people to accomplish things they never thought possible, even on the coattails of recent defeat.

The mech was moving again in no time, but its armor was already beginning to melt under each new plasma round, each blow from James' shotgun. Liara's constant stream of fire from her SMG helped them along. And soon, in the minutes Tarquin anticipated, the Atlas stopped moving. It took one last step, stopped, and Payton shouted for everyone to take cover only seconds before it seized with a mechanical whir and exploded.

"Commander!" she heard in her ear. The victorious thrill in his voice snapped her head up, twisting in his direction. "I'm past the firewall! I'm in!"

But then there was a flash. On the console's screen, she could see it. A flash of quickly decreasing numbers. And no sooner had the numbers cropped up that she heard a hiss of, "Spirits," from the turian.

The anxious hum in his voice set her off in a run, snapping out an order for cover fire from her squad. Another wave of Cerberus troops was filtering in from across the area, behind the smoking, melting corpse of the Atlas mech. But she clearly had no time to pick them off herself.

"What is it, lieutenant?"

"The trigger mechanisms –" Tarquin bent down farther above the controls, feet planted on the ground, braced as if he was waiting for something. "Cerberus hacked the damn trigger mechanisms. The bomb's going to detonate regardless."

No matter how many times she'd watched a situation fall to pieces right in front of her eyes, Payton could still feel reality sucking the breath from her chest. "Can you disarm it!"

"Negative!" Even despite the high pitch of his voice, even despite the fact that time kept ticking away in thick white numbers, his voice rattled in his throat. "There's not enough time! I'll have to... I'll have to..." His head jerked up towards the bomb. There was a wide beam running up to the very top of the structure, accessible from where they stood. And everything fell into place. "I can do it manually!"

"What?"

"I have to separate the bomb and the trigger mechanism! I have to do it now!"

Tarquin was away from the console and running up the steep incline before Payton could get a word in edgewise. Turning her back to the bomb, unable to keep staring at it with the knowledge that it might be going off in a few moments, she hefted up her rifle and lined up a shot on a Cerberus engineer.

Bile bit at the back of her throat when bits of bone and blood and grey matter flew this way and that. Not because of the gore, but because of that feeling, that turn in her chest when she realized there was nothing she could do for the situation.

"You can do this," she murmured before digging her teeth into her bottom lip and squeezing off another round into a trooper approaching Liara's flank. The quiet assurance was both for her sake and Tarquin's, forcibly steadied to keep from shaking as it left her tongue.

Behind her, three of the four heavy metal arms keeping the bomb in place lifted in defeat. She could hear the lieutenant curse under his breath, hear his quiet deliberation, a hissed out and garbled attempt to figure out the situation in the time remaining. And everything pointed to one solution.

Every thought ran into the same understanding. Every other possible tactic failed under the haphazard scrutiny of desperation. There was nothing else he could do with definite results.

Every other option racing through his head was at danger of failing.

He couldn't fail.

The last Cerberus trooper fell only moments before the three of them heard something in their ear pieces that drove them to look up towards the bomb. Payton tore her eye away from her rifle's scope. The blue tendrils of biotics faded from Liara's limbs as she glanced towards the horizon. James climbed over his cover, slowly and carefully, though that didn't stop pieces of the old stone from turning to dust under his weight in the aftermath of the firefight.

Faced with death more often than most, Payton found it was impossible to keep from wondering how the end would finally catch up with her. The first time her life flashed before her eyes, the vision was bright. Saturated, full of the good times, the things she accomplished, happy memories. But it changed, along with the aftermath, the more often she managed to step away from the edge. That first time left her veins thick with adrenaline. But every time after brought a sight that slowly faded to black and white. The renewed desire to live became nothing more than having the wind knocked from her chest, nothing but more time to think about all the things she was never able to experience.

One of the things her mind turned to in the wake of yet another close call was her last words. She wondered what they would be, if she would whisper them or shout them, if anyone would be around to hear.

There were three people present when Tarquin gave his, three people bound to remember the sound of that tell-tale turian gravel in their ears for years. They'd remember the words long after they left Tuchanka. If they were asked, they'd retell the story as they'd seen it – of a turian lieutenant with a fresh defeat riding on his back and the fall he took after removing the last detonator.

"Victory, at any cost." No matter how many times they rehashed the events of that day, they'd never mix up what they'd heard. The fight before the event, the sound of the structure crumbling in on itself, the explosion and the flames that threatened to tease their way up to the bomb regardless of Tarquin's sacrifice – those details would change like any memory. But the sound of his voice, the solid, almost patriotic murmur. They'd never forget that.

On the shuttle ride back to the Normandy, with the mission's success vastly outweighed by the truth of their losses, Payton took a seat.

Usually she busied herself checking up with Steve, sitting in the seat next to him and taking damage control, getting all of her ducks in a row. But this time, she sat down, chin tilted close to her chest and her eyes trained on a single spot on the shuttle's rough floor.

No one said a word until Joker's voice filled the cabin.

"Commander, I'm getting a bunch of radio chatter from the krogan. Evidently they're wiping out the rest of the Cerberus troops. I wouldn't want to be the guy who got to tell them about the coal the turians left in their stocking." She could hear Joker take a breath, deviating between continuing and leaving it like that. After another moment of resounding silence, he chose the former. "You alright? Sounds like things got hairy down there."

"That's one word for it," Payton replied, loud enough for him to hear, pointedly ignoring the hoarse edge to her words. "There were... a lot of casualties. One of them was the Primarch's son."

Joker uttered a quiet, "_Shit_," before remembering himself. "Right. Understood, Commander. Joker out."

Before she could return to staring at the floor in front of her, trying to figure out what she'd tell the Primarch, James stepped away from the other side of the shuttle. The step he took brought him closer to her, and she looked towards him to see his brows pinched upwards, the shift digging a wrinkle into the skin of his forehead. "Shepard..."

"It happens, right?" She tried to sound casual, like she already accepted what happened for what it was. But her face was too drawn for anyone to believe the tone of her voice. "What he did back there was what he had to do. I know that. I _know_ that." Her fingers laced together between her knees, and she turned her eyes away from him as quickly as she'd looked in his direction. "The Primarch - he believed in his son. That's why he promoted him. He knew that Tarquin would do something like that if he had to."

"He couldn't be so sure anyone else would," Liara murmured to her right. "Everyone else in the turian military would be an unknown quantity to him in comparison to his own blood, no matter how many times he fought by their side."

No one knew the truth. Everything remained little more than speculation, but every word that passed between them helped ease the tension in her chest. She hated giving condolences. She'd done it so many times before – apologizing for a situation she couldn't control, telling families of dead soldiers that she was sorry for their loss.

For a long time, telling Ashley's sisters was the hardest. But Payton knew the situation had changed; she had changed. The last couple of years hadn't been kind to her, and they left her brittle and tense. She couldn't shake the feeling that nothing would ever go smoothly again.

Shaking her head, Payton blinked rapidly. Her eyelashes clumped together, the downward tilt of her head concealing glassy eyes.

"Hey, he gave everything up because it was the right thing to do," James said as he moved closer, stepping up directly in front of her. "He knew he had to. It'd take a hell of a long time to live up to the mistakes he made. And he went out in a blaze of glory instead. Can't think of anything better than that."

Payton worked her jaw, unlacing her fingers to rub her palms over the armor plating over her thighs. "You're right."

"I am?"

Payton nodded, but it was Liara who spoke up. "Turian culture is very... difficult to maneuver. That kind of dishonor would weigh heavily on both Tarquin and his father. It might have ended in death. This way, he can help his people – the entire _galaxy_ – and keep shame far away from his name."

The lieutenant's sacrifice still put a bad taste in her mouth. Even with Liara and James trying so hard to make sense of it all, it all felt unnecessary, as if his death was another on a long list of things this war was stealing away too soon.

She was tired of losing people, tired of seeing people at arm's length die, tired of not being able to do anything about it. She was tired of having to watch the people around her go through the motions after losing another person. Nothing was solely about her. It never was, but everything was much clearer when she looked around the shuttle with eyes that were still damp.

Liara gave up so much after she watched her die. She didn't just lose her best friend, but the remnants of her naivety, as well. She was forced to come into her own too early, and that much shone on her face.

And James. She wasn't around when he lost his men on Fehl, but she knew what it must have been like. You make a choice. You make a hard call, and suddenly almost everyone's dead. Then you just keep losing more and more, slowly, pieces falling away without the slightest illusion of self-control.

Payton watched as James sat down on the seat in front of her. She didn't even bother looking away when she realized he could no doubt see everything on her face.

The rest of the trip back to the Normandy was quiet. Steve kept his mouth closed even as they pulled into the shuttle bay and he set the Kodiak down. Only when they were stepping out of the shuttle did he rest a hand on her shoulder, nodding a little with the corners of his mouth turned downwards in a frown.

As always, he was the first to break away from the group, eager to dig back into whatever work he'd left to pilot the shuttle. Liara lingered for a while, murmuring that she would be in her room if Payton wanted to talk, but she was the second to walk away, leaving Shepard and James standing there. They were close, close enough that the shoulders of their armor grazed when one of them took a deep breath.

"When you said that..." Payton wet her lips, brows furrowing as she picked through the words in her head. "On the shuttle. You said someone can spend years making up for those kinds of mistakes." James was already looking at her curiously when she glanced in his direction, eyes staying locked onto his until she spoke again. "I know you were talking about Tarquin, but it sounded... personal."

"Everybody makes mistakes," he replied. "You know I have. I've screwed up more times than I've done the right thing."

Payton opened her mouth to say something, but he interrupted her. His body twisted until he was facing her completely. "No, I'm not gonna pull something like that on you, Lola. You don't have to worry about me turning martyr during a mission."

It was her turn to face him.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but you know I can't –"

"That you can't believe me?"

She nodded.

"I'm not going anywhere. I mean, yeah, I haven't given you any reason to believe I won't pack my shit and leave without even a note. Or that I won't end up trying to tackle a brute or something stupid like that. But I'm working on it."

"Maybe I'll believe you," Payton murmured.

"Maybe I'll give you reason to."

His words inspired a tiny hitch at the corner of her mouth. He was trying. She knew he was trying – to make up for nearly ditching after what happened on Earth, to make up for his conduct after joining the crew, to give her a reason to trust him, to believe in him.

In any other circumstances, that wouldn't be required. She didn't need someone to be her friend in order to work with them. But here, with everything on the line on a daily basis, there weren't any other options.

"Maybe you already have."

James chuckled. "Oh yeah?"

"_Maybe_. Don't get ahead of yourself."

Payton moved past him without another word, leaving James staring at her as she walked towards the elevator. This time, his smile wasn't cocky. It was full of disbelief and he was unsure of how to process what she'd said, but it wasn't cocky.

There was only one thought that shone through the struggle to understand what she meant.

He was getting tired of them walking away from each other when the conversation was just getting good.


	15. Chapter 15

"You know, I shouldn't be surprised this is how you chose to spend your day off, but..."

Payton glanced away from her fingers where they idled over the console, looking over her shoulder in the direction of Kaidan's voice. He stood a few yards off, his voice filtered through the intercom system attaching the main Spectre office to the shooting range. It was good to see him up and walking around, but she hadn't expected to see him here.

"But what?" she asked, voice raised so he could hear her more clearly. "You mean, you're not surprised?"

Her almost indignant tone pulled a chuckle out of him as he peered down the sight of his pistol's scope. "A Spectre's work is never done, I guess. Or is it a Shepard's work?"

"I think it's both."

"Yeah, sounds about right."

Payton nodded, though he couldn't see her with his back turned. "To be fair, this isn't my day off," she continued, eyes turning back to the console's screen. There was message after message, some read and some ignored, all of them important to one person or another. But she didn't have time to get to everyone, to pay undivided attention to each case, to help every single person who had the ability to speak up.

That explained her complete ignorance to Kaidan's invitation to join the Spectres. On arriving in the Spectre offices and seeing him behind the thick glass, standing there in the shooting gallery, she thought she was seeing things. It took a moment and an almost awkward wave from the major to make her realize she wasn't.

When she asked him why he was there, he presented his armor to her with a prideful little grin. "Some of us have room for improvement, Shepard," he said. "It was unexpected, but Udina never hated me quite as much as he hates everyone else."

So he was a Spectre now, mostly healed and as active as he always was, standing behind that bulletproof glass, making quick work of the targets. A few shots from his pistol was enough to finish off the first, but it took a quick jolt from his omni-tool to remove the second's shields. The latter might have been left a crumpled mess if he chose to use his biotics, but that much wasn't in the cards for that day. He might take that last step someday soon; the doctor was still watching his readouts, and he didn't want to give her a heart attack when she came in to see him.

_I'm proud of you_.

She considered telling him that much while she lingered in front of the glass and watched him practice, but there was no way to say those words without sounded condescending. At least, not in her tone. They were friends. They'd been friends for years. She should be able to tell him she was proud of him without just feeling like she should have said it a dozen times before.

That's why she stood with her back turned, smiling to herself as she made the necessary purchases.

The office remained quiet save for the muffled sound of Kaidan's pistol and the hum of the tech spread out around her. It was a step up from the Spectre offices she remembered, a lone branch off of C-Sec HQ with a turian and a console. There was even more at her fingertips - not just weaponry, but information, as well. That's why she was there.

Previous meetings with Thane led Shepard to believe there was only so much time left for him, and having yet another friend die on her wasn't an option. Not this late in the game, not this far into the meat of her story. She was tired of it, and a recent conversation with Mordin was enough to spur her on. There was so much going on all around her, but she could focus for long enough to find some way to help him, for Kolyat's sake as much as her own.

There wasn't a person on the Normandy content to just sit and watch Thane waste away at Huerta Memorial. Liara mentioned a transplant, one that he'd denied some time ago. Garrus offered to go down to the Citadel and talk some sense into him. She considered Thane a foil to him instead of a friend, but there was something behind Garrus' intentions, something he didn't bother to explain and Payton didn't bother to question. Joker made a comment about everyone making Thane a 'get well soon' card, but he didn't even bother smiling at his own snark. And Mordin...

Mordin wasn't pleased with the fact that he couldn't accomplish everything all at once. Despite his rush of excitement at reaching the final stages of synthesizing the cure for the genophage, there was an obvious solemnity to his voice when Payton passed by hours before to check up on him.

"Tell him I'm sorry," he said, body bent down low as he inspected the vials set out across Chakwas' desk. He was avoiding looking at her; that much was obvious. "Can only cure one thing at a time."

There was nothing there. The hanar were too busy being indoctrinated and making a mess of everything to cure a well-known disease among their people. And Thane denied the transplant once with good reason. It wasn't likely he would change his mind. The only thing she could do was visit him and tell the rest of the crew that they should do the same.

"So what are you here for?"

Kaidan gave a huff of a sigh from where he stood beside her. "Remembering how to shoot a gun," he told her with a tiny smile. "I'm glad Doctor Eva didn't knock that out of me. Not all the way, at least."

"Your shot's improved, actually." Payton pursed her lips, scrolling through the messages one last time before closing out of them. Moving away from the console, she straightened her posture and took a step back. "From what I saw on Mars, at least. It's been a while since I've seen you in action."

"Wouldn't be here without your instruction, commander."

It was an obvious tease, and Payton's cheeks twitched into a smile wider than the one she was already wearing. "I can't shoot a pistol to save my life, Kaidan."

Kaidan's brows bounced. "I wouldn't go that far, but you're not exactly a crackshot. That's for damn sure."

Payton rolled her eyes, folding her arms beneath her chest and leaning against the railing. "You didn't answer my question," she pointed out. "Half of it, maybe, but you're still here. Unless it's Spectre business and I'm not allowed to hear the details."

"Nah, not Spectre business. My own." There was hesitation there, as if he wasn't sure whether or not he should share everything. He weighed options, wondered if the truth of the matter even mattered in the long run. "I heard through the grapevine that you were at Grissom Academy recently, so I'm looking up my squad. They're all... powerful biotics, so I'm trying to check up on them, see if they're okay. Cerberus might be going after them, too."

"It's a possibility," Payton murmured. Her inability to mince words turned Kaidan's teasing little smile into a frown. Of course it was a possibility. If it wasn't, he wouldn't have bothered. "I hope you can find them, Kaidan. I'm sorry about not visiting as often as I should have."

One of Kaidan's shoulders hitched upwards. "It's fine. You've got a galaxy to save, Shepard. It would've just been wasting time."

Payton pressed her lips into a thin line before standing up straight again. She moved over to him, arms falling from beneath her breasts and a hand resting in the middle of his back. "You've always told me I don't waste _enough_ time, and now you're making excuses for me? Something change there I should hear about?"

"Uh, well, there are Reapers involved now."

"Right." Giving the fabric between his shoulder blades another pat, she leaned away, leaving him to his business. "Maybe one day soon you can come back."

Kaidan looked up at her suddenly, as if he hadn't quite expected her to say that.

"To the Normandy. You didn't get a good look at her the last time you were there."

His brows furrowed. "Understandably. I was unconscious." The half-confused expression melted away once he was hit with a certain measure of clarity. He cleared his throat, hands placed on either side of the console and his shoulders curved inwards. "I'd like to. I really would. But I don't know where I'm going to end up. The Alliance might want me somewhere else."

"You might get your own ship," she offered, and Kaidan actually laughed.

"Normally, I'd say, 'I'd sooner become the second human Spectre,' but that argument doesn't really hold any weight anymore, does it?"

The two of them lapsed into a silence that wasn't entirely uncomfortable. Payton watched as he began running through names, murmuring ranks and callsigns under his breath, anything to help him focus on finding the men and women he was looking for.

Only after he'd sent out the first message did he speak up again. "So... the lieutenant."

Payton worked her jaw, chewing over the questions Kaidan was likely to ask. There was no way this would end well after all that happened recently. "What about him?"

"He still part of the Normandy?" Kaidan snorted, shaking his head. "Or did you space him already?"

"I have no idea what you're insinuating, Alenko."

"I distinctly remember you making Jenkins _cry_ when he said something that wasn't half as offensive as what came out of Lieutenant Vega's mouth."

There was something bittersweet about the memory. For the longest time after Jenkins died on Eden Prime, she'd felt guilty about snapping at him for making light of the situation, for offering her up as an example for being a hero when she stood right there in front of him. That wasn't the first time she'd given him a cold shower of reality, but it was the last straw, or so Kaidan told her a few weeks later. Jenkins was a soldier, but a man could only take so much.

"He's still part of my crew," Payton said. "And he's not going anywhere. I worked with Jack a few months ago, and she's even worse. I've built up something of an immunity."

"That's not what I heard."

An eyebrow arched high on Payton's forehead. "What did you hear?"

"Ah. Right. Liara... mentioned -"

"She told you what happened. Of course she did."

Kaidan was smiling again, cheeks pressed up against the corners of his eyes. "Striking a superior officer wouldn't stand on my watch. Just saying."

"It was self-defense."

"Mhm."

"It _was_."

"I don't remember you hauling off and punching anyone while we were hunting down Saren," he murmured. "This war is going to end with a lot of broken bones - most of them in your hand - if you don't let yourself breathe."

Payton shifted on her feet. She knew everything he said was the truth. Kaidan knew what anyone with sense had to hear, and he'd spent most of that first year trying to get her to understand that. None of it really caught on. "I wish it was that easy, Kaidan. It's rough out there, especially now. It's harder to be... well, to be collected. It's been years since I hit someone. Really _hit_ them. It felt good."

"Did you tell Vega that?"

She lifted both hands to cover her mouth, knowing immediately that she'd said a bit too much. "No, I didn't tell him that," she said through her fingers. "I don't think he'd appreciate that much."

Kaidan chuckled. "I wouldn't be so sure about that. He might ask you to hit him again. I'm not 100% on what kind of guy the lieutenant is."

"I doubt he's the sort of guy who enjoys getting slugged by his CO," Payton told him. "You could get a better read on Vega if you ended up on the Normandy. Maybe give me a few pointers towards how to deal with him. Having you there might even help me relax."

For a moment, Kaidan considered calling foul play, but Payton didn't use manipulation to get what she wanted. This was the full truth.

"I'll see what I can do."

"I like the sound of that."

That was their goodbye. There were no hugs, no handshakes; just a smile on both sides and a conversation coming to a close. It was enough to fill the taxi ride and elevator up to Huerta Memorial with thoughts. Everything rushed by faster when she wasn't entirely present, something she was beyond grateful for. Before she knew it, she was standing outside of the hospital and hoping she wouldn't catch Thane at a bad time.

Once before she'd visited him. During the first week of Kaidan's stay, she returned to the Citadel twice. The first time, Thane was nowhere to be found, but he sent her a message the second time, claiming he wanted to speak to her.

He wasn't in the spot by the window where she'd spoken to him before. When asked about his whereabouts, the nurse brought her to one of the many examination rooms, one far off and not as spacious as the one Kaidan stayed in. He was seated on the edge of the bed when the door swished open, looking up from his hands to see if the doctor had finally arrived.

Seeing that he hadn't, that it was Payton standing there with the nurse, the corner of his mouth hitched upwards.

The nurse excused herself, and the door fell shut behind her.

"I'm glad you received my message," Thane said to her in greeting, his habitually quiet voice even quieter to keep from straining. "I was hoping you would visit... later. After my check-up."

Payton sat in the chair beside the bed after pulling it a little closer. "You didn't specify a time."

"Mm... I didn't?" His brow ridges twitched inward. "Still, it's good to see you again, Shepard. Even if the timing is slightly off."

"I should visit more often," she said, hands palming over her knees as she leaned close, her own voice pitching lower to match his. "I just mentioned this to Kaidan. With the war, there's so much going on. I don't know hours from days anymore, much less days from weeks."

Her brows pinched upwards at the sight of Thane's smile widening. There was a flash of white teeth before the muscles in his face relaxed. "Keeping track of time can be a pain."

Payton nodded, but Thane wasn't finished. Reaching into his jacket, he removed a slender rectangular case. Her eyes followed it, watching it move less than gracefully between one hand and the other. "It's early yet to begin giving my things away, I know." Thane wet his lips before clearing his throat. "But Kolyat visits often. I have time to give him what I intend to leave. You, however, might be busy."

A wrinkle formed in Payton's forehead, and she didn't say anything. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on the case, the case she discovered upon a closer look was more of a holster than anything else. The fingers of his right hand wrapped around the handle in the best grip he could manage, but the second failed to hold onto the holster tight enough to remove whatever it was.

Letting the worn synthleather go, Thane splayed his fingers and drew them in again, his infinite patience keeping him from being bothered. But Payton couldn't help herself. She would have waited around until he was able to continue, but she hated seeing him like this. So she reached forward and took his left hand in both of hers.

At the feeling of her warm fingertips massaging over the muscle, Thane chuckled under his breath. "I've been sitting here for too long, waiting for the doctor," he explained. "This... happens, if I'm stationary for very long."

"I'll get a doctor." She smoothed a hand up the back of his, rubbing over the worn scales until she could feel the muscle twitch beneath her fingers. "Before I leave," she clarified. "I'll tell someone that you've been waiting."

"They know, siha." There was something almost amused in his words, as if he was flattered that she assumed they'd forgotten about him in that lonely examination room. "They're busy tending to more important matters. Surgeries, accidents, births - things more important than my check-up."

Payton huffed quietly, mostly to herself than at him, and he smiled again, this time softer. "Thank you for offering, though."

"Of course." Her murmur was barely above a whisper, distracted by the slowly warming skin beneath her palm, of the cool underside she felt once her other hand slid beneath his.

His fingers curled inward, giving her hand a squeeze to indicate that the tingling feeling had passed. "Can I have this back now?"

She laughed at that and let go with a nod, bottom lip bitten between her teeth.

The gift was revealed to her a moment later when Thane was finally able to remove the handle from the sheath. It was a straight blade, dull silver in color and entirely unremarkable in everything but the way Thane looked at it. "I have had this for... years. _Many_ years." Sliding his thumb up from the handle, he pressed the pad of it against the blade, though not firmly enough to cut his skin. "It was one of the first weapons the hanar gave me, once they were certain I was ready. You learn to kill with your body first. It's the weapon that's always with you. But this... this was always with me, as well. It has protected me more often than any gun."

Sliding the knife back into its sheath, he rested in her palm, folded her fingers over it. "I thought it was fitting, that I would give this to you, in that case."

He watched Payton's face for her reaction, carefully monitoring the look in her eyes and the skin around them, the upwards or downwards twitch of her mouth. He'd expected pride at the gift, but the skin high on her cheeks became a patchy, diluted shade of red. And when she looked up at him from the knife, her eyes were the slightest bit wet.

Wet enough for him to know that while the pride was there somewhere, it was covered with things he'd rather ignore. So he leaned forward, a hand resting at the back of her neck, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you, Shepard." Thane pulled back only far enough to see a small smile reach her eyes before his hand slipped down to her shoulder. He gave the curve of it a squeeze. "This isn't enough. There's no gift large enough for what you put back into my life, but it's... symbolic. I felt you would appreciate that much, at the very least."

Payton wrapped her fingers tight around the knife. "I do appreciate it. Thank you."

"We could spend all day thanking each other for what fate ended up handing us, but... the doctor's here."

Blinking, she turned in her chair to look towards the door. She'd been so wrapped up in the gift that she hadn't heard the doctor enter. Lifting herself up from the chair, Payton nodded towards the doctor before turning to Thane. "I'll visit again. Soon. I promise."

"If you have the time, I would like that."

At that, she left, allowing the doctor to give Thane his check-up. Rubbing the heel of her palm into her eye, she moved past the nurses and patients, and she was halfway through the lobby when she heard the familiar bleeping noise of a new message. Stepping into the elevator, she lifted her arm and pressed on the ever-present band around her wrist.

The message was from Miranda, a video as opposed to text, hurriedly recorded by the looks of things. She looked different with her hair pulled away from her face, in the high-collared uniform of Citadel Security. But she couldn't have mistaken her face for anyone else.

"I have to talk to you, Shepard." Her voice was low, rushed, and affected with the same familiar accent. "You'll find me in the docking bay."

Important details were left out, anything that would keep the questions coming for anyone who wasn't aware of the specifics. There were thousands of docking bays on the Citadel, and Shepard was careful, almost paranoid, when it came to changing where she docked. She knew better than to return to the same place over and over. The Normandy had been locked up before. If things went sour, she wasn't letting that happen again. Miranda knew that much. She knew the steps Payton would take, especially after years of studying her, months of working with her.

And she also knew the commander couldn't deny intrigue, not when she had questions of her own.


	16. Chapter 16

The dalatrass' offer rang in Payton's ears long after the comm channel was closed.

There was so much at stake. Numbers that could be applied towards the construction of the Crucible would be taken away. Scientists who could help build and manage the project would remain on Sur'Kesh, on the Citadel. The price was high. All prices were high during wartime. But was it too high?

Payton rubbed at the back of her neck as she looked around. There was a Reaper on the horizon, looming before the Shroud facility as if it was taunting her. The dust and steam of Tuchanka's atmosphere and the rumble of Tomkah trucks at her back surrounded her. Every time she took a breath, her throat ached. And it was a grit she couldn't cough up.

There was nowhere to go. The krogan nuclear war left roads in disrepair, left buildings crumbling and structures bent and twisted. Whatever long line of Tomkah trucks followed behind Wreav's couldn't move on and risk the rubble stripping the underside of the vehicle. They were built to withstand much, but the planet wasn't kind to anyone or anything, breathing or not.

One of the krogan scouts was sent to check out the path ahead, and she found him standing in a crack a yard wide in the road. He was up to his knees in broken stone.

"We have to get out of here," she told him.

The krogan reared his head on her, vibrant green eyes flashing. "Don't you think I know that?" He climbed out of the crack without much trouble, hefting his massive form upwards until he cast a shadow over the commander. "We're not going this way."

She swore she heard a muttered _humans_ under his breath before she reached out and grabbed his shoulder. That got his attention. "No, I don't think you do understand. We have to get out of here. Now. So _find_ a way."

"Build it yourself if you're so –"

No sooner had he opened his mouth did Victus' promised turian air support go whizzing over their heads in the direction of the Reaper. She shook her head in disbelief, jostling her racing thoughts and worries and the secretive tone of the salarian dalatrass.

Payton pressed a hand to her ear only to hear a crackle and a distinctly turian rumble of, "Change in orders, commander?"

The communications channel between her hardsuit unit and the turian air support had been mostly ignored for the past hour, but she knew she had to call off the attack. "Artimec wing, this is Shepard," she said, stepping around the krogan to get a better look at the approach. It was hopeless. There wasn't enough time to get to the Shroud facility on the tail of the turian distraction. "There's been a delay. Thirty minutes, maybe an hour. Hold off your attack."

She could hear the pilot take a breath. The sound was sharp in her ear, but quiet. "Negative, commander. We're on approach. The Reaper already knows we're here. Extraction would only mean leading it towards you and the krogan. It's a risk outside the mission parameters that I'm not willing to take."

Behind her, Garrus' uneasy mutter of, "No way is an airstrike enough to take down that thing. We need to get in that fight," proved to be the truth.

Watching a dozen or more turian ships fly around the Reaper was nothing short of disheartening. There was no inspiration to be taken from men sacrificing themselves like that, buzzing around the monstrous synthetic to no avail. She could barely watch for longer than a moment, turning around to face the scout again.

"Get us out of here," Payton repeated. There was an urgency to her words that hadn't been there before. A desperation, one that made the demand hit home.

The scout turned back towards the road, and she looked towards James. He stood next to Garrus, both of them watching the airstrike, though the former's furrowed brow and set jaw was what pulled her over in their direction.

She was barely a yard away from them when all hell broke loose.

In a matter of seconds, the line of trucks and cluster of soldiers was cut in half. When she realized what was happening, Payton shouted for James and Garrus to move, though her voice was devoured by the sound of the turian ship hurtling towards them. Where there was doubt and frustration before, there was now only shock and fire and the twisted corpses of two Tomkah trucks.

Once she was able to pick herself up off of the ground, she twisted back around towards the scout. He was dead, body twisted unnaturally in a thick splatter of crimson.

"Get out of here!" The order bellowed out of her in the direction of the remaining trucks. That was the only provocation the krogan needed after the crash. Stragglers quickly climbed into the nearest truck, and they were soon running over the crack in the road. Whatever dangers the crumbled and broken path held could be traversed. Anything was better than waiting around and being torn up by shrapnel from downed turian fighters.

And just like that, Payton and her squad were left to travel by foot. James pointed out a nearby tunnel, and once they'd vaulted over the gap between the road and the building that ran parallel to it, they descended a set of stairs to find darkness.

The light shining from above her rifle's scope was barely enough to illuminate a path, but even what little she could see prompted her to ask Wrex and Eve about their location.

The city of the ancients is what they called it. Ancient was a word that suited every inch of the walls around them, the floor beneath them, and the roof overhead. Every noise louder than a whisper stirred dust. Every heavy footfall split the already destroyed rock. And when the entire tunnel shook, run through with a tremor unlike anything she'd felt in years, all three of them stopped in their tracks.

"Yeah, that wasn't just a tremor," Garrus drawled out after the second time they'd nearly been knocked from their feet. "Something's really trying to screw with our day."

"Well, there is a Reaper here." James' response didn't seem as steady as he'd no doubt hoped. "Maybe that's the problem."

Payton shook her head as she twisted around, the light from her rifle revealing yet another wall covered from top to bottom in simplistic paintings. They reminded her of some human work she'd seen in text books, preserved in museums, from the ancient Egyptians. There weren't as many colors, but the similarities were clear.

"It's not the Reaper," she told them. "I might believe it if we weren't on Tuchanka."

Garrus' mandibles flared, fingers gripping tighter around his rifle. "You think that's a thresher maw? Really?" He paused. The walls of the ancient city rattled again; the culprit had moved off, though not far. "Shit. It's a maw, isn't it?"

"Kalros," Eve's voice resonated in the hallway. "They call her the mother of all thresher maws."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Payton heard James mutter at her back. "Since when do krogan name Thresher Maws? Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose?"

The response to James' question was a chuckle from Garrus. "You know something's badass when the krogan name it. This will definitely be interesting."

She'd come in contact with thresher maws a handful of times since Akuze. Even before the hunt for Saren began, her squads often ran into them on abandoned planets, always planted for the same reason, by the same terrorist group. Then she'd helped Grunt kill one on foot. Garrus had been there for that, too.

But the idea of a beast that size, of that importance, churning in the soil beneath her feet made her stomach burn.

"You alright, Shepard?"

Passing her tongue over her bottom lip, she twisted her head just enough to give James a nod before moving on. It wasn't a lie; she would be fine. Once this mission was over and the cure was spread and she was back on the ship, she could forget that feeling, the cloying panic that threatened when she realized she was so close to something with such a capacity for destruction.

Garrus made a disgusted sound up ahead, and when they turned the corner, she and James saw him nudging the corpse of a husked rachni with his foot.

"I figured we would run into more of these," Payton told him as she took a knee, forcing the thing over onto its back with the butt of her rifle. "Even after that mess with the Queen."

"At least she won't be making any more of these things."

Nodding, Payton pulled herself up off of the ground and motioned for them to move on. Leaving the rachni queen to die was another in a long line of difficult decisions. She could remember meeting the creature on Noveria, her melodic pattern of speech and her promise that she would never fight against her. With that promise broken, even if it was forced that way by the Reapers, she had no other option. Grunt and the Aralakh Company needed her to think on her feet, to make a snap decision, and leaving the queen there was the choice she made.

But there was light up ahead, and that was enough to distract her, to goad her into a slow jog. Payton ascended the stairwell quickly, careful not to jam her foot into any more harshly eroded sections.

"We're out of the city, Wrex." When she stepped out into the light, her eyes narrowed, and her head swiveled, taking in the sights as best she could after adjusting to the darkness of the ancient sprawl. "I have no idea where we are, but I hope you're close."

"Few miles out," she heard Mordin pipe up in the background.

As soon as Mordin's outburst filled her with hope, Wrex came crashing through with a, "Yeah, a few miles, but Kalros is on our tail. Can't circle around to get you."

"Have an idea!" Mordin continued, hurriedly in Wrex's wake. "Will tell you about it later, Shepard. Very good plan. Risky, but what isn't?"

"We'll just be here." Garrus moved out in front, standing at a ledge and peering over. Every stretch of stone held a different story. Some were covered in art, others appeared to be gilded with gold long ago. There was no lack of beauty in this old, untouched section of the planet, even after all this stretch of land had seen. "Admiring the, uh, rubble until you can pick us up."

James moved out next to him, though he stood a little farther back from the edge. He stared down at the creek running through the broken up stone, filtering down over the smaller ones that made up the makeshift riverbed. All around the path cut by water and time sprouted plants of different sizes. Some looked like ferns. Others were unfamiliar trees. Long blades of grass shot out of cracks in the buildings. "I didn't know Tuchanka came in green."

"You're looking at hope, lieutenant." Even with the pain in Eve's voice from the journey, Payton could also hear a smile and what could be described as pride. "What's left of it for our people. Life can grow from what remains of our planet. We must only be given a chance to nurture it."

It was then that Payton made her decision. The dalatrass' offer faded into nothing but a bad taste in her mouth, pulled away with the same wind that kicked up harmless cyclones of dust around their feet.

She knew Wrex well enough to know that he would keep the krogan strong. In the weeks since she'd saved Eve from Sur'Kesh, she'd come to know the female krogan, too, and she knew that Eve would keep the krogan in check as best as she could. Dooming the krogan race to clan warfare and the destructive treatment of their women wasn't in the cards. In reality, it never had been.

"Let's keep moving," Payton said. "We have to get closer to the facility. Wrex isn't going to be able to drive the truck up here anyway."

As they'd anticipated, the fight was long from over. Husked rachni and batarians met them at a juncture not far ahead, and they fought the things beneath three centuries-old krogan statues. There was dust and dirt and blood to mingle with the disgusting acidic fluid that burst from the ravagers' sacs.

The blare of fire got Wrex's attention, though he was doing his own share of fighting. Traversing the wastes of Tuchanka was a feat in and of itself, one only made more difficult by distractions. Soon enough, he shoved the unit away from his mouth and into Mordin's hands with a huff. Unsurprisingly, the doctor didn't succeed in making the situation any easier.

Eventually, the three met up with Wrex's Tomkah. His and Wreav's were the only ones left, though even that paltry number was cleaved in half on Kalros' second approach.

"That plan you mentioned." Payton reintroduced the topic as they drove in the direction of the Shroud facility. Both Eve and Mordin turned to look in her direction. "At this point, we could use the help. I'd like to hear it."

"Maw Hammers."

Payton blinked at Mordin before her gaze shifted to Eve, who chuckled at the simplicity of the doctor's statement. "Kalros," she said softly, as if her answer provided even more insight towards the plan. "We will summon her to the Reaper."

"Is that even possible?" James asked from where he was seated at Payton's right. "Do we have a stick big enough to play fetch with the mother of all tresher maws?"

"The Reaper itself will be the... stick in question," Eve clarified. "This is Kalros' home, as much as it is ours. Any threat towards her children and her own livelihood will be pulled under. She is a mother seeking to protect her offspring."

Wrex leaned down to look through the wide window banding around the front of the truck. "No one's ever faced her and lived. A Reaper's got no chance."

Payton nodded, hands laced together between her knees. "Excellent plan, Mordin."

"Actually, Eve's plan."

The female krogan bowed her head.

"Thank you," Payton said with a small smile. "We wouldn't even be here today if it wasn't for you. Your entire species would be lost. You're incredibly brave."

"It's fascinating the lengths a woman will go to protect her own."

They arrived near the Shroud facility soon after that. Plans were struck quickly as they stood in the direct path of the Reaper. She was to get to the Maw Hammers and activate them. If not for the monstrosity standing in her way, it might have been a simple task. However, the three of them would be running towards the Reaper, funneled right down the middle.

Wrex would lift the hammers and cover her on the approach. Mordin and Eve would finish synthesizing the cure at a nearby lab, and he would meet Shepard at the lab. From there, once Kalros distracted the Reaper, the two of them would cure the genophage, and this mission would be over.

But Payton knew missions rarely went as according to plan once they were more than a list of things to do. There was no certainty. There were no constants. Everything could change, or everything could stay the same. No one knew one way or another.

As she moved to leave the group, she heard Wrex call out her name. He grabbed for her arm, guiding her back to where he was standing, wearing the biggest krogan smile she'd ever seen.

"I can't say I ever expected to be here with you, Shepard," he told her, hand still clutched onto her arm. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't damn proud it's you helping us and not somebody else."

Payton's cheeks pressed up into her eyes as she stood there, refusing to talk until Wrex was finished.

"You've done a lot to help everyone else in this war already. And you just keep going. This wouldn't even be possible without you." Stepping closer, Wrex reached up to rest his other hand on her shoulder. "You're a hero to the krogan people and a sister to me."

Chuckling wetly, she bit back the swell of feeling in her center and leaned forward, giving his plates an affectionate butt of her head. "Thank you, Wrex."

The krogan took a step back and pulled his shotgun off of his back. His stance remained relaxed, and there was an undertone of amusement in his voice. "What're you thanking me for?"

"Just... accept it, alright?" The corner of her mouth hitched up a little higher. "Damn krogan."

Wrex huffed through his nose and shoved past her. She could hear him chuckling at her back before he disappeared around the corner. He was ready to get this over with. Everyone was. Nodding to Mordin and Eve, Payton pulled her Mantis off of her back and set off in a jog.

They were met with more resistance, more of the same. Husked humans that exploded under a single shot from her rifle. Ravagers in a thicker number than before hit them on their flank, though a dose of medigel kept her going when she took a blast from one of the creatures, shields already worn down by the swarmers that burst from its sac.

James was all but out of ammunition again once the waves ceased and they made their way out onto a bridge that connected the structure they'd gone through with another. But, as fate would have it, he wouldn't need more heat sinks.

Payton jumped over the gap in the bridge just as the Reaper's sights shifted. It took all of a moment for the three of them to realize they'd been spotted.

"Jump back over!"

Her eyes snapped to James. He was motioning for her to move towards him, but the blast from the Reaper kept her from doing so. She was able to move just far enough to the side to avoid the beam. An intense heat washed over her face, and she was falling before anything else could register.

Above her, she heard a shout of her name. Not commander or Shepard or even Lola, but a stunned cry of, "Payton!" Instinctively, she curled her body inwards and covered the back of her head mere seconds before she hit the ground. The air rushed from her lungs with a series of sharp gasps that did nothing to help the burn in her chest.

When she was finally able to sit, she tilted her chin up towards where she'd fallen. James was staring down at her, on his stomach, flattened against the bridge. "We can get down there in a second," he said. She could just barely tell the difference between the quiet echo of his voice and the clear ring of it in her ear. "Just wait for us, commander."

"There's not enough time," Payton told them. "I've got to get to the hammers. Now."

"You're _not_ going in there on your own."

His protest was met with her standing up and grabbing for her fortunately unharmed rifle. "I am. I'm quicker on my feet, and one fast moving target is harder to hit than a group of three." When he opened his mouth to protest, only letting slip a sound of offense, Payton snapped out a quiet, "That's an order, James."

"Fine," he spat back at her, and when she looked over her shoulder, she could see him staring down at her through the scope on his assault rifle. "But we've got your back."

Her reply was a simple, "thanks," before she took off in a run, straight for the Reaper.

She could barely hear him giving the location of the next blast or any oncoming enemies over the beating of her heart. It raced in her chest, pounding harder than her feet on the tightly packed dirt and stone, nearly deafening her to everything but the barest of signals from him and Garrus and what she could see with her own eyes.

Hugging cover as tightly as she could, Payton's muscles burned as she pressed her back against the only thing separating her from the Reaper's targeting mechanism. Half-crouched and half kneeling, she struggled to catch her breath before rolling out of cover and pressing herself forward again, body tucked close to the wall banding around the arena. Anything to keep her mostly hidden.

In any other situation, she might have cloaked. And perhaps the fact that she didn't now was a grievous error on her part, but she knew she had two people watching her back. If she disappeared, they wouldn't know how to find her.

When she reached the split in the path, the controls to a hammer on either side, she heard the tell-tale screech of another husked enemy hitting the ground in front of her.

But these weren't ravagers. They weren't grotesque former humans or batarians. "Shit!" James' voice picked up with clarity brightened by a surge of adrenaline. "Brutes ahead of you!_ Get out of there_."

"I'm trying."

Her voice came out as little more than a hiss as she twisted around another block of cover. Two of them were lumbering for her. When they recognized what they assumed was prey, one of them lurched forward and began running in her direction. It was twice arm's length when she pulled up her cloak and rolled away.

Shoving her heavy Mantis aside, Payton vaulted over a toppled column and sprinted off in the direction of the hammer. Even above the Reaper klaxon and the clumsy footfalls of the brutes, she swore she could hear when her rifle was crushed into the ground.

"Shepard?" James' voice rushed out of him, sounding somehow empty and questioning in the same instance. "Where the fuck did you go?"

"She's cloaked, Vega. Payton's many things, but a magician isn't one of them."

The cloak fell just as she reached the first of the maw hammers' controls. She activated it as quickly as she could manage before turning to look towards the way she'd be going next. Her cheeks, ruddy from exertion, paled when she saw the gauntlet of brutes laid out before her, each of the hulking beasts moving towards her.

Payton was close to pulling up her cloak a second time when she heard the klaxon and saw a wide shadow engulf the ground in front of her. Racing around the other side of the controls, she dug down onto her knees as the Reaper's leg hit the ground, narrowly missing her and crushing into the empty catwalk instead.

When the Reaper drew its leg up and took another step, far enough away from her to move, she disappeared a second time.

Running through a crowd of brutes proved to be even more difficult than she imagined. She had to be quick, but careful. Quiet, but she had to breathe the same as anyone else. She narrowly avoided one of them by twisting on her feet, though that nearly caused her to trip over her own legs.

It was her subsequent gasp that alerted the nearest brute. Cursing under her breath, Payton forced herself into another run, tearing through to the other side with the brute in hot pursuit. The others turned and followed it, and she could hear them all focusing on her even before her cloak fell.

She scrambled up the stairs towards the second hammer's controls, an order for Garrus and James' to get away barked out at the top of her lungs as she activated them. The second hammer began to fall, sending out a deep, resonating tone that shook everything around her, rattling her to her very core.

That was when she heard it. The ground in front of her, dirt and dilapidated structures alike, roiled above the form of Kalros as the maw approached the hammers.

Payton didn't have any other choice. She had to get to the facility, and that would only be possible if she passed the brutes a third time. Not even bothering with her cloak, the shot a plasma round into the face of the closest enemy, quickly descending the stairs and avoiding a blow from one's massive claw.

She sent out another few rounds before she was free of them, the fire distracting the brutes long enough for her to free herself.

Later, if asked about the last stretch to the Shroud facility, Payton could barely piece together the events without struggling to remember what had transpired. She had run there on the last burst of adrenaline with Kalros and the Reaper fighting overhead, the threat of death more and more present with every passing moment, with each long stride. All she could focus - truly focus - on was the tower up ahead.

It was her destination, and she had to get there. If she didn't, the cure might not be dispersed. If she didn't, the war would be over.

Out of breath and sweaty in a way she hadn't been in months, Payton made it to the facility to the sight of Mordin bent over one of the many consoles across the main room. She walked over to him, the fight behind her gone quiet on the tails of Kalros' success, and peered down at his hands as they moved over the haptic interface.

"So this is it," she breathed out with a sigh. "I'm glad you got here."

"Glad I got here, too," Mordin replied crisply as he stepped back and turned towards the elevator. "Must go to the top of the facility to counteract the STG tampering."

It took a moment for Payton to register what he'd just said. In that moment, he'd already stepped into the elevator, ready to go rushing off towards the top of the Shroud. The Shroud that was quickly falling apart, that would be nothing but a husk of its former self in no time. "Mordin! Stop!"

His hand paused over the elevator's controls. "Can't stop, Shepard. Must get to the top of the tower."

"Why?"

"Told you; must do this myself. No one else here capable."

Payton's brows twitched inwards as the corners of her mouth tugged down. "The tower's going down," she said, a pleading note in her voice, one she couldn't help. "If you go up there, you're going to _die_."

"Signed up for suicide mission without protest," Mordin told her, refusing to budge from where he stood inside of the elevator. "Willing to die for a good cause. This... mm, this is a good cause."

"I'm sorry."

The words left her lips before she even understood why she said them. She watched as Mordin nodded to her and pressed a finger against the controls. The door closed, and he tilted his head upwards. Even from this distance, she could see him take a deep breath.

Payton watched as the elevator shot upwards, hurtling towards the very top of the facility to administer the cure.

Her muscles felt like rubber, and it took nearly all of her remaining strength to rush out of the facility as it began falling to pieces around her. She knew Mordin wouldn't want her to stick around, not at the chance that she might not leave Tuchanka, either.

When the doors opened, Garrus and James were standing there. Garrus glanced over her shoulder, into the building, uttering a quiet, "Mordin?" to which she shook her head.

They both knew what had happened after measuring the look on her face. Her steps were heavy in a way they'd never seen, eyes focused in front of her to keep from looking downwards. If she did, the rest of her body might drag itself down, too.

Before she could even consider pausing to catch her breath again, she felt an arm around her waist.

"It's not your fault, Lola."

Payton twisted her head just enough to see James standing right at her side. It was his arm, keeping her from slowing down. He knew she couldn't. He knew what would happen if she did.

"We've got you."


	17. Chapter 17

The dreams were always the same.

They were infrequent, mostly due to a schedule that didn't allow for much sleep, but Payton couldn't stave off exhaustion for the rest of her life. The sheets neatly tucked around the mattress in her cabin had not been folded back since the bed had been remade during the Alliance's retrofit of the vessel. When she did find the time to lie down, she slept on top of them, smoothing the bedding to military standards when she got up however many hours later.

But her position didn't matter. It didn't matter if she was lying down or sitting up or had her head lying on her folded arms on her desk. She had the same dream, all hazy red lights and a forest made of ash. Sometimes she heard nothing but the Reaper klaxon, the sound that dried her throat and made her tremble inside of her armor. Sometimes she heard voices.

Letting go of a breath that shook on her lips, Payton stepped around yet another gnarled tree. The hunched black trunk would break apart under her heads if she reached out towards it. She knew this from experience, from watching limbs fall apart under heavy fingers. Everything there turned into charcoal and dust at her touch. Even the boy.

Her stomach churned at the memory. Only once had she been able to catch him, grasping for his arm before he could stop her. And she watched as his skin turned as black as the forest around her, his center burning bright until he began breaking apart. No matter how many times she blinked in a desperate attempt to wake up from the nightmare, her mind forced her to watch, clawing into the dream and refusing to let go until the acrid smell of seared flesh and smoke had all but faded from her nostrils.

There was no fire this time. There were no red lights.

Shadows shifted in her peripheral vision, and murmurs shifted through the branches stripped clear of leaves. When she twisted to catch them, she found there was nothing there but the dead forest and piles upon piles of silver leaves, glinting in the light of the heavy, too-close double moon.

The whispers never stopped. They increased in number, words covering words and distorting themselves into a chilling echo she couldn't understand. Some broke through louder than the others, though once she deciphered the words, she wished they hadn't.

"It's all you." Jacob's warm, almost too familiar tone filled her up, and she stopped in her tracks. When the voice continued, it seemed closer, and she could feel a rush of air against the back of her neck. As if Jacob was standing behind her, like he had when she lingered in the armory, working long and unnecessary hours on her rifle. There was a weight on her hips, but she was wearing armor. She shouldn't be able to feel his hands there in full armor. "All of it."

_Stop_, she wanted to say. _This doesn't get to happen. This shouldn't be happening._

There was a painful tightness in her throat, a burn in her chest, a twitch in her fingers she couldn't suppress. Stepping forward, away from whatever stood behind her, Payton moved on, picking her way through the trees and refusing to look over her shoulder.

"Keep it up, I might volunteer for fewer suicide missions."

The voice was following her now, kicking up dead leaves in her wake, making them swirl around her feet. But she didn't stop, didn't turn around and face whatever it was staying so close behind her. She was afraid of what she'd find.

Maybe she would find Jacob, standing so close she could feel the warmth of his skin. Or maybe she'd find Jacob as she last saw him, his face a torn and bloody and burned mess from the shot he'd taken on the Collector base. Or maybe she'd find Samson, the boy her nightmares had twisted from hope to a reminder of her own failings.

Drawing in as deep a breath as she could manage, Payton trudged on with no heading. She had no idea where she was going or where she'd end up. All she knew was that she couldn't stop.

No matter her stubbornness, the nightmare was even stronger. When she heard him again, his lips were at her ear. Soft and full and tickling the sensitive skin in a way that made a heat spread up the back of her neck even as a chill hit her stomach. "Thanks for letting me volunteer, Pay."

This time, she couldn't keep the quiet, "Stop," internal. The word was more than a wisp of air, and it failed in its mission.

"It's good to know you believe in me like this. I don't plan on letting you down."

That was when she felt fingers around her wrist.

The specter was strong, even stronger than she felt in that moment, and its grip twisted her around without trouble. She caught a glimpse of Jacob as she remembered him – shorter than she was with bright, mischievous eyes and a smile at the very corner of his mouth – before he tugged her forward.

Her body pressed up against his, armor against Cerberus uniform, for all of a moment before she fell through him.

Before she fell through him and woke with a start, gasping as her stomach clenched and caused her to dry heave. Payton dropped the datapad she'd fallen asleep holding onto, climbing to her feet on unsteady legs and steadying herself on her desk.

She made it to the bathroom just as her stomach began to settle, turning on the sink's faucet instead and reaching into the chilly stream with trembling hands.

When people asked her why she rarely slept, her excuse was often her busy schedule, the stress she was under. Sometimes it was insomnia. But she never told them about the nightmares.

Rubbing her cool hands over her face, Payton's gaze shifted to her reflection. A burn from Tuchanka's sun turned the apples of her cheeks a splotchy red that only served to underline the slightly swollen purple bags beneath her eyes. Even in the dim lighting of her cabin's bathroom, she could tell that she looked like shit.

After a few minutes of leaning against the sink, shoulders hunched, she pushed herself away from it with a sigh. There was work to be done, including a much needed trip to the Citadel to purchase a new sniper rifle. Her Mantis was nothing but bits and pieces back on Tuchanka. The transition between keeping her pistol as her sidearm and using one as her main weapon for the time being would be a difficult one.

All she needed was a moment to breathe, she reminded herself. If she could keep walking forward, she didn't have to stop. If she kept going, nothing would be able to drag her down. She was a soldier; she could keep her chin up for long enough to get the job done.

But every positive thought culminated into nothing. Payton was standing in front of her fish tank with her forehead pressed against the glass when she heard footsteps approaching her door.

A few days prior, Payton had EDI disable the automatic locking system on the door leading into her cabin, supporting the open door policy she'd put into effect during the fight against the Collectors. Alliance programming had replaced the locking mechanism, but she refused to keep it functioning. Visits served as a distraction. Visits sometimes woke her up from whatever nightmare she was having. She was thankful for them.

The door swished open, and Payton twisted her head to see who stood there. It was James, and he was shifting from one foot to the other, seeming almost hesitant.

"You can come in," she murmured, twisting back around to stare into the tank. A Belan jellyfish floated past her line of sight, tentacles shifting gracefully in the clear water. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Kinda hoping to ask you the same thing," he replied, hands digging into his pockets. The last time he'd seen the inside of her cabin, it'd been gutted. It was still gutted, though not nearly as much as it had been when the ship was docked. Looking around the room, he noticed a few more ships in the case, a few more fish in the tank, a pile of datapads on her desk, and the orange glow of a terminal that probably got as much rest as she did. "Did you get some sleep?"

She nodded, fingers tapping soundlessly against the tank's chilly glass. "A little, yeah."

"You've got a terrible poker face," James said with a hint of a smile in his voice. "Save yourself the trouble and never play cards. You'll end up broke."

"You're not looking at my face."

"And I can still tell you're lying. That's the point."

The conversation ended there momentarily. James idled behind her, still combing over the room with a curious eye. But he always made his way back to her, to where she was standing and the obvious tension in her posture and the tangle of black hair cradled by the hood of her sweatshirt.

Payton wanted to talk, but it was the silence that pooled around them and not her desire to say something that drove her to speak.

"Do you remember Samson?"

"The kid who used to follow you around back on Earth?" James leaned against her desk, thick arms folding over his chest. "Yeah. Why?"

When Payton turned around to face him, her hands slid into the pockets of her hoodie. Her brows were already knitted together, as if she'd forgotten the words she needed to explain herself. "I think I saw him on Earth, right as we were leaving. He got into a shuttle, and it was shot down by a Reaper."

"Shit," he breathed out, looking away from her just long enough to give his head a shake. "Was he with his mom?"

"He was alone." Payton moved closer to him. Eventually, she was near enough to drop down into her desk chair. "Which doesn't make sense. It was a weekend. He would've been with Juliet."

James looked down at her, shifting back on the desk so he could get into a more comfortable position. "Maybe they got separated?"

"I saw him twice," she told him, hoping the clarification might help. "Before I got to the Normandy, Anderson and I were passing through a building, and I saw him. I... tried to help him, but he didn't let me. Said everyone was dying and that I couldn't save him."

"Doesn't sound like Sam."

James was right. Nothing the kid told her was something she expected to hear from the precocious little boy she'd been introduced to a few days after arriving in Vancouver. "I don't get it, though. Why would I... He was _real_. I saw him get into that shuttle, James. Kaidan saw it get shot down, same as I did."

"You should see if someone can find Juliet for you. What was her last name again?"

"Clarke," Payton murmured, resting her cheek on a fist.

"Liara told me she could look for my dad. I'll get her attention in the mess tonight and tell her to find Juliet instead."

"James..."

The marine shook his head. "It's not a big deal."

"It is," she pressed. "Everyone's scrambling to find family members. This is just something that might clear my conscience. Or make everything a fair bit worse."

James stared down at her. She looked exhausted, though even he could tell that the tautness in her face had melted away since he'd first stepped into her cabin. Even as her face was drawn, her eyes were bright and blue and sad, and he couldn't help but go with his gut feeling, the one that urged him to try to make it better.

"You're not gonna change my mind, Lola."

Payton sighed at that, though there was a distinct quirk at the corner of her lips. "How'd you last in the Alliance, stubborn like this?"

"It's the only reason I did," James chuckled. "What about you?"

"Same."

The tiny little smile she wore bloomed into something wider when she saw a dimple carve into his cheek. It felt good to smile; grimacing ached after a while.

"We just keep finding more and more things we have in common, don't we?"

"To my great displeasure."

"You like it," he teased. "You can't lie to me."

Rolling her eyes, Payton slid her chair in closer to the desk, not stopping until her chest was pressed against the curve of the surface. Hands resting on the surface, her fingers began tapping. One after the other, as he'd noticed her doing so many times before. "I'm not lying to you."

"You've got a tell," he replied softly, taking a hand and prodding his index finger against one of her own. "You tap your fingers."

Payton looked at him, incredulous. "I always do that."

"Yeah, when you're nervous or overwhelmed or distracted –"

"Or when I'm sitting still for too long. Or when I'm reading. Or when I'm watching a vid." James couldn't be bothered to bite back a laugh when she began pointedly avoiding the continued tapping of her fingers. Instead, she ran her fingers through her hair. And once she was satisfied, she laced her fingers together on the desk.

A chunk of thick hair fell across her forehead, and James arched a brow at her. "So you don't do it when you're flustered. That's an interesting development."

Payton opened her mouth to say something, but stopped short when she felt an entirely foreign hand in her hair, pushing some of it away from her face.

"You're kinda cute when you're flustered, too. So full of surprises."

She pursed her lips at that, pressing her palms against the desk and scooting her chair away from him. At her backwards movement, James let his hand fall to the desk, leaning against it as he watched for her reaction. While it wasn't negative, he wasn't sure if it was positive, either. He hated how difficult she was to read when she knew someone was watching.

"Sorry," Payton murmured when she spotted his disappointment. "It was a reflex."

"Yeah, I get it."

Pulling herself forward again, her chair sliding up right next to him, even closer than before. But she didn't just sit there. She didn't just wait. Her hand moved forward until her palm came to a rest on his forearm, callused fingertips running over warm muscle. "Thank you for offering to talk to Liara," she said, picking her words slowly. "I'll see if she can manage a search for both, but your father takes priority. She's the Shadow Broker, after all. I'm sure she can manage to find two missing people."

"Doc'll find something," he replied, just as slowly, his eyes falling to where her she was touching him. "But no way is my dad the priority. Not knowing if he's alive or dead isn't keeping me up at night."

"I'll talk to her," Payton said. There was an air of finality to her voice. She had no plans to budge.

James nodded, reaching over to grab for the hand on his arm. Not to hold, but to remove it, though his thumb brushed over the worn skin of her palm. "Try to relax. Come down to the mess in a few hours. Cordova and I are whipping up dinner for the crew."

He set her hand down on the desk and stood up. Pocketing his hands to keep from touching her again, he jerked his chin in the direction of the door. "See you down there?"

Payton looked up at him from where she was sitting and nodded.

"I'll see you."


	18. Chapter 18

Taking a trip to the Spectre office in order to purchase a new sniper rifle only to find she didn't have enough credits to afford the only model offered was a humbling experience.

"Couldn't you... ask Garrus if you might use his during missions?" Liara asked from beside her. "I've noticed he's been using his assault rifle more often due to James stealing most of his shots."

"I asked," Payton replied with a quiet chuckle, forced to erase the frown from her face. "He laughed at me."

The current state of her Mantis – likely white and black dust on Tuchanka soil – didn't exactly inspire confidence within the turian. If she wanted his gun, she'd have to pry his Incisor from his cold, dead talons.

"We should have enough saved soon." Liara's brows pinched upwards, and she managed a reassuring smile. "As long we have a chat with Lieutenant Cortez about letting James requisition so many spirits."

Payton sighed and turned away from the console. She felt odd without her rifle, even if she was only on the Citadel for a quick stop at the Spectre office and a meeting with the salarian councilor. She felt too light with nothing but an M-5 Phalanx at her side, suddenly regretting her decision to never become a Jack of All Trades in regards to the weapons she could use.

She could manage well enough with a pistol once she set about customizing the sidearm, equipping it with a high caliber barrel and a scope to make the weapon even more familiar.

But it was no sniper rifle. There was no exaggeration involved when she compared being without her rifle to having her hand chopped off at the wrist.

Both Payton and Liara were halfway out of the Spectre offices when both of them were hailed by Joker.

Lifting her hand close to her mouth, she spoke into her omni-tool, only narrowly avoiding asking him if he'd found a sale somewhere on the Citadel. "What is it, Joker?"

"I was just, ah, contacted. By Thane."

Payton's heart nearly fell to her toes. When she spoke, her voice rose sharper than before. "What is it?"

"Cerberus is attacking the Citadel."

She heard a gasp from Liara behind her, but it took her a long moment to process what Joker had said. They hadn't been on the Citadel for long, but neither of them had seen any Cerberus troopers since they arrived.

Finally, everything fell into place, and Payton huffed. The sound was loud and frustrated, and he half expected her to hang up on him. Instead, she replied with a biting, "You've g_ot_to be kidding me."

"We should have expected a power play like this, Shepard," Liara interrupted, moving past her and turning around so they stood face to face. "It's likely no one was expecting you to be here so soon. We've only just left Tuchanka, after all."

"The salarian councilor seems to think Udina's being manipulated by Cerberus. Or working for them or... who knows what else." Swerving around Liara, Payton began the trek down the long hallway and into the Citadel embassies. "What's more likely is Udina found out I was meeting with Valern and made sure Cerberus was aware of the timing."

Descending the few stairs and waiting the moment it took for the door to slide open, Payton lifted her omni-tool again. "Joker, patch me through to Thane. Keep an open comm channel. Get Traynor to contact James."

* * *

><p>Despite the tension and the worry clenching his stomach in a vice grip, James swore he could hear a familiar chuckle in his ear whenever another in a long list of curses slipped out of his mouth. The fact that she - Commander Shepard, the galaxy's number one ice marine - found his reaction to the situation at hand amusing actually helped. A little. Not that he'd tell her that much.<p>

That said, there was Cerberus everywhere. He was able to pass most of them up with his strict instructions in mind. Meeting Shepard at the executor's office was priority one. Shooting Cerberus forces full of holes was secondary.

Not that he didn't take advantage of his superior position to do just that.

It didn't take long for him to lose all semblance of the element of surprise. Word spread through Cerberus channels that they were being attacked by a civilian as heavily muscled as he was heavily armed. He'd taken down ten troopers already without batting an eyelash, the number only outstretched by the threat Shepard and her asari companion posted towards the troops.

"Eleven," James muttered under his breath as he shoved another heat sink into the assault rifle he'd found near the body of a downed C-Sec officer. "What're you guys up to?"

"This isn't a competition."

Payton's voice was just thick enough to bring her face to mind, all hard lines and narrowed, piercing eyes. She has an impressive disappointed expression; no doubt she was making it then, hoping he would hear it in the tone of her voice and it would cause his attitude to wilt.

Nothing changed. If anything, James got even cockier. "Aww, you're jealous."

"_Lieutenant_," Payton snapped out. "This isn't a competition."

"You should see her, James." Liara's voice crackled in his left ear as he peeked over the half-collapsed desk he crouched behind. If she was finally on his side again, he was more than happy to listen to her spill a few details. "I've never seen someone backtalk and manage to get a smile out of her."

All it took was the quick drop of that comment to get him smiling, too. The side of his bottom lip tugged downwards, uneven with the rest of his grin. "Tell me about it, doc. I'm surprised she hasn't shot me out of the airlock yet."

"There's still time," Payton interrupted tersely. "You ought to check your ego before it gets you shot, Vega."

Without missing a beat, Liara murmured, "Or ejected from the airlock once we get back on the Normandy."

"Hey, I'm just fucking with you. You want radio silence?"

There was only a moment between his question and the commander's solid reply of, "_No_." The word lingered there in his ear, tugging his smile higher on his face. And it didn't budge when she quickly amended her statement with a, "That would be detrimental to the mission."

"Alright, Lola, I hear you." Pulling away from the desk, James hurried down the hallway, rifle hefted upwards, jerking every few seconds as his eyes darted around. He didn't expect an ambush; all of the Cerberus forces were condensed. They just weren't smart enough (or concerned enough with his presence) to flank him. "I'll be a good boy."

James chuckled when he heard her utter a dry, "Yeah, right."

"Should I leave you two alone, or...?"

_Atta girl_, James thought as he passed a hand over a panel leading into yet another uniform C-Sec hallway. They all looked the same. Luckily, he'd seen the inside of this place more than a few times. Everything was silver and blue, marked with English, asari, turian, and salarian letters on each directional sign. Even with the gunfire and the bodies and the nozzles spraying water on almost every inch of the place, he could remember how to get to the executor's office.

Payton took what sounded like a deep, cleansing breath. But before she could open her mouth wider to speak, he was already stepping in. "Hey, if Shepard wants me all to herself, that's her prerogative. No skin off my back."

Before Payton could reply, he heard a sudden barrage of fire over both the communications channel and ringing out around the corner. The sounds were identical, and that was enough for James to launch into action.

Hurrying up the set of stairs to his right, he took them two at a time until he stood on the scaffolding that banded around the room. Smoke billowed up from a centurion's grenade, but that was enough of an indication. Thumbing out the pin of a frag grenade he'd found in a crate along the way, he waited for all of a moment before launching it directly into the cloud.

Three seconds passed, and James stepped directly into the middle of the scaffolding, checking his rifle as the grenade exploded, a rain of armor and blood and bits with more substance crested at his side.

When the explosion settled, James leaned over the side and opened fire on the first Cerberus agent he set eyes on. Cornered between him and Shepard's pistol, the man was down and out of the fight before he could even raise his shotgun.

"Good thinking."

The compliment was near-shouted to overwhelm the clamor of rifles and shotguns and pistols, of pained screams and futile calls for backup. His reply of, "yeah, thanks," was almost lost in the sound, but it was loud enough.

Even on the coattails of her sniper rifle's demise, Payton was nothing short of impressive in the fight. Without the quick precision, she relied heavily on her tried and true omni-tool, launching explosive plasma rounds and applying a cryo field to her pistol. All it took was a few shots until the Cerberus troops froze where they stood.

Once they were frozen, James let loose a concussive shot in their direction. They shattered, leaving nothing but shards of white and gold armor and quickly thawing gore behind.

The three mopped up the remaining group of troops without much trouble.

Heavy use of cover was the only reason James made it to the executor's office. Luck had nothing to do with his not being riddled with holes. If he was lucky, he'd have been visiting the Citadel in full armor. Liara was nursing her left side, likely having been shot and patched up enough to continue. Payton's cheeks were blotchy, her pale skin burning bright pink from exertion, unused to filling such a different combat role.

But they were all eager to get to their destination. They were all eager to find the salarian councilor and stop Udina before there were any more casualties. This was already a massacre.

James descended the stairs to join them, twisting a barely there grin in Liara's direction before following in Payton's path she cut through the fallen Cerberus troopers. The asari replied in turn, though she looked a paler shade of blue than usual.

"The office is right up here," Payton said as she rushed up the few steps and onto the landing that stretched before an unlocked door. Cerberus had been so close to getting in. That thought alone was enough to sober James up, and he stepped past Payton as she lifted her pistol to tap his fist against the holographic panel.

They all held their breath as the door fell open, exhaling only when they realized there was no one in the office.

"I thought Bailey told you the councilor would be here," Payton said, eying James as she stepped into the lobby. "The executor isn't even _here_."

"Executor Chellick is a C-Sec officer first, from what I can remember," Liara reminded her as she secured the door behind them. It would be difficult to forget the undercover turian from years before, the one who worked with what he was given. Which included releasing an innocent woman only after Shepard had busted an underground weapons smuggling ring. "It's likely that he brought the councilor here to keep him safe and went elsewhere to delay Cerberus."

"The councilor isn't here, either," the commander murmured, lifting her Phalanx and shifting the pistol with her line of sight. The office's lobby was completely empty. Not just empty, but untouched. Nothing was askew save for a few datapads haphazardly thrust aside by a frantic secretary. Payton was so busy focusing on the lack of a councilor that she never saw the movement.

Liara pointed in the direction of the connecting office. Even through the thick glass, she could see the disjointed shimmer of a cloaked figure on the far side of the room. Her voice lowered to a quiet hiss of a whisper, "Over there."

The moment James turned his eyes away from Payton to look towards the suddenly uncloaked salarian councilor was the moment everything rushed in yet another direction.

A man dropped down from the ceiling, his lean form tucking in on itself until he was steady on his feet. Dressed completely in black, it was only fitting that the agent moved like a shadow, sliding around behind the councilor as he turned towards Shepard to call out for help. The salarian was silenced with an arm barred low across his throat, tugging him just tight enough to keep him immobile. The other hand lingered near his head, a bright ball of biotic energy flickering blue and black and gold against the curve of his gloved palm.

Payton's pistol went off twice, and the second blow shattered the sheet of glass directly in front of them. Vaulting over the low wall, she landed with a chorus of cracks, broken glass splintering even more beneath her boots.

"Let go of the councilor."

Stepping over the window ledge with his assault rifle already aimed towards the Cerberus agent, James watched as the assassin only pulled the salarian closer. He said nothing. The blinking white lights on his visor only served to highlight the hard set of his mouth.

Payton moved forward, each step measured and still crunching. "Let. Go. Of the councilor."

"Put – put your gun down! Are you insane? He's going to kill me!"

There was a flash of green and grey in the corner of James' eye, but he refused to take his eyes off of the agent. He was ready for anything – for Payton to give the order to shoot him with the councilor in the way or for the order to stand down. He was ready.

What he wasn't ready for was the sight of Thane stepping up soundlessly behind the assassin, his pistol raised right against the back of his neck.

The quick movement cut the air around the weapon, rustling the agent's hair just enough to alert the man to his presence. Just as soon as he shoved the salarian councilor to the ground in front of him, his elbow was already digging sharply into Thane's solar plexus.

Thane gasped, the blow knocking him a step backwards, taken by surprise just long enough for the assassin to disarm him with a painful shot to his wrist. Catching the pistol, he unleashed an entire clip in Payton's direction before he tumbled away from the fire of her own pistol and James' assault rifle.

Liara grabbed for the salarian councilor, hurriedly pulling him out of the way before he could get caught in the crossfire. Again.

But once he had time enough to recover, breath already coming in ragged pants after the blow to his chest, Thane was more of a contender than the assassin expected. He was fast on his feet and a powerful biotic, which the Cerberus agent discovered when Thane let loose a pulse that shoved him backwards and off of his feet.

In his prime, they might have been evenly matched, but James could tell that this would end poorly for them. Thane's breathing was labored and his movements weren't precise and there was a look of worry on Payton's face that spoke volumes about what they were being forced to watch.

The two men were moving too quickly to get a good shot on the assassin. The risk of shooting Thane was too high, leaving them helpless to stop the brawl that unfolded in front of them.

Without his pistol, Thane was at the disadvantage, a disadvantage that grew even more obvious when the agent drew a long, slender blade from his hip.

Payton lurched forward in an instant, but she stopped short when it dawned on her that there was nothing she could do. No matter how fast she was, how practiced her aim, she couldn't stop what happened.

Thane grunted as the blade pressed between his ribs, tearing through tough leather and out the back of his jacket. That was all it took. He stopped fighting after one last grab at the assassin's face. When the Cerberus agent drew the blade from his gut, he sliced the air at his side. A line of blood as bright and red as an open wound cut across the tile.

And then he was gone.

Thane hit the ground face-first, body curled inwards as his hands sought to press against the open wound, and the assassin disappeared.

James' eyes were locked onto Payton as she pursued him out onto the balcony, desperately firing her pistol every spare moment until the car he'd hopped onto was nowhere to be found. When she slowed, she turned around, and he could see her harrowed expression even at a distance.

Her pistol was on the ground and her hands were on Thane's shoulders before anyone could so much as help him sit up.

"Thane." The flush was gone from her cheeks, face blanched of all color save for the blue of her frightened eyes. Her voice was already shaking as James began to help her situate him. Blood pooled beneath him, and his hand slipped in the smear of red. But Payton was there to hold him up. "Li-Liara!"

At the sound of her name, Liara left the councilor's side to move to Payton's. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Can you get someone here? Call – call Huerta. Or Bailey. Call Bailey. Get – get someone out here to bring him to the hospital."

"They'll –" Pain interrupted Thane as he attempted to speak. He held tighter onto his stomach as he allowed his body to rest against the marine at his back. Steeling himself, he continued, looking at Payton with wet, half-lidded eyes. "They'll be busy."

Payton sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, a line etching deep between her brows. "This won't just be a check-up, Thane. They'll get to you."

Liara stepped away to get in touch with Bailey, her attention turned from Thane to the councilor. Payton didn't look away from Thane's face, her hands shaking with worry and adrenaline as they smoothed over his shoulders.

"You should go after him, siha."

James could see the conflict written over her features. She wanted to do as he said. She wanted to chase the assassin down. But she didn't want to leave him there.

"I know," Payton murmured, her eyes finally glassing over. "I'll – _God_, Thane, I'll see you. When this is over, I'll see you. Okay?"

Thane's head bobbed vaguely, a drowsy nod, and Payton drew herself even closer. Her hands still rested on his shoulders. James' hands were still planted on his back. And carefully, she leaned forward and pressed a clumsy little kiss on Thane's forehead.

"I'll wait for you," he murmured, though the last words were barely heard over the muffled sound of a whimper from the commander.

When she pulled back, James caught her eyes with his.

It'd been a long time since a look managed to nearly knock the wind out of his lungs.

Liara hurried over just after with news. Bailey would contact the hospital to get Thane into surgery, but he'd also unlocked a patrol car in order to chase down the assassin. "He's probably heading towards Shalmar Plaza," Liara told her as Payton pulled herself onto her feet. "That's where Udina is headed, as well. It's likely the rest of the council will be there."

"Stay here," Payton said. Her voice was even thicker than usual, and she blinked twice before looking towards her friend. Liara's face creased, brows pinched upwards in worry. "Stay with Thane until they get here. Then take Valern to the plaza. He'll want to be with the others."

James helped Liara move Thane until he was resting more comfortably, back against a desk. He caught a glimpse of him staring after Shepard, and James twisted to see what caught his attention.

Payton stood nearer to the balcony than before, her back turned to them, a hand pinching at the thick bridge of her nose.

The sound of Thane shifting and the moan of pain he gave after reaching for her discarded Phalanx tore James' eyes away from her. Without a word, he felt a hand around his wrist, turning it over and placing the pistol in his palm.

"Be sure she – _ah_ – doesn't forget this again."

_Watch over her_ was the true instruction. Everyone who knew Payton knew that she didn't need anyone to hold her hand. All she needed was someone there, a hand she could reach out and grab if she wanted.

James knew when he was being passed a torch.

Nodding, he swallowed at the lump in his throat and stood. He grabbed his rifle and hurried over to her side, handing her the pistol. "You might wanna hold onto that," he said, voice lacking any humor. Payton looked at him, confused for a moment, before taking it and thanking him. Quietly, not so much as mentioning his poorly timed joke.

They climbed inside the patrol car as quickly as they could, and they were in the air, flying towards the plaza, in a matter of minutes.

"Sorry."

Payton's jaw clenched as her fingers gripped tightly around the wheel. "There's nothing to be sorry about," she replied, the bridge of her nose wrinkling as she struggled to focus on their flight path. She hated driving. Driving while her body hummed with adrenaline was even more difficult. "We did all we –"

The patrol car had barely escaped the shadow of bridge banding across the Presidium when the assassin's sleek black form dropped onto the hood of the car. She dipped the nose of the vehicle on instinct, but he barely budged.

Her second instinct was to shoot him, even if that meant letting go of the wheel. Somewhere in the background, she heard James curse as she released the steering wheel and drew her pistol.

The glass didn't shatter. It cracked in the shape of a starburst. The second did the same.

Bulletproof.

Payton didn't say a word as she opened her door. She didn't tell James to grab the wheel. She didn't explain what she was doing. The assassin stood and ran over the top of the car, twisting around just as Payton clawed her way mostly out of the door.

"Shit!" James grabbed for the wheel, hurriedly shifting into her seat to take control of the car. "What the hell are - Payton, get the fuck back in here!"

Instead of pulling her back in, knowing it might cause more damage than good, he grabbed the wheel in her stead.

He grabbed the wheel and curled an arm around her waist and hoped she wouldn't do anything even crazier than this. Pulling a stunt like he would wasn't like her. This was because of what happened. It was bottled up and bottled up until the assassin's sword pierced her armored exterior. He couldn't stop the explosion. He couldn't even slow it down, couldn't muffle it.

So he held on tight and wished she would nail the bastard in between his eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Holy hell, that was an experience. Anyway, it's been a while since I've left a note at the end of a chapter, so I felt I should now! Thank you guys so, so much for the feedback. It means the world to me. And I'd really like to know what everyone else is thinking! Just leaving a note on what you're thinking about the fic so far would be grand. I'm really curious. Sitting over here in my box of tears (lately, at least; ME3 was depressing as hell, though, so what else was I expecting?) by my lonesome doesn't really promote much thought! But, yes, thank you to each and every one of you for reading!


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